Wonder Woman and Superman in Home Is Where The Heart Is
by NWHS
Summary: This AU picks up nearly a year after "Corporate Leaguers." Married life for Clark and Diana is good until Clark's past comes back to haunt the Kents and the Els.
1. Chapter 1: Losing Kal El

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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**Author's Note:** This AU story continues with the romantic and familial adventures of Diana Prince and Clark Kent. In this alternate universe, our heroes have no alter egos – no Superman, no Wonder Woman. But, in their own human way, they are both super and wonderful. While "Corporate Leaguers" was broad in scope in terms of _Justice League_, _Superman_, _Batman_, and _Wonder Woman_ characters, this story's focus is much smaller, taking one plot point from the first story and developing and exploring it further. Hope you enjoy "Home Is Where The Heart Is."

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**HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS**

**Chapter 1: Losing Kal EL**

**Prologue**

**Thirty Years Ago**

**Kansas City, Kansas, Ramada Inn**

Jor stood by the single window in the hotel room, surreptitiously pulling back the blackout curtain and scanning the darkened hotel parking lot. He saw nothing, which was either very good or very bad. The people who were after them were excellent at their job, hunters of the finest caliber. _The best the Krypton Secret Police could probably spare._

Letting the curtain drop like a silent boulder, fully shielding the room from prying eyes, Jor prayed he was wrong. Perhaps the KSP wasn't after him and Laura, maybe the visitor to their apartment two weeks ago had indeed been someone from Immigration and Naturalization Services. The INS was a threat to Jor and his family, not just as big a threat as the KSP.

Yet Jor hadn't been convinced that the INS had discovered the Els. No, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself, he'd been unable to shake the heart gripping foreboding that his worst nightmare was slowly closing in on him.

With protective eyes, Jor turned his back on the window and to the two people asleep on the queen-sized bed. _Lara and Kal. My family. My heart. _His son and wife were all that was good in Jor El's life. He no longer had Krypton, his scientific work, his brother, even his name. He had nothing but a faithful, loving wife and the best son Rao could ever grant a man. _And when I leave this state, I'll leave half of my heart behind and damn the other half to guilt and shame._

They slumbered peacefully, Kal and Lara. Dark hair falling over their eyes, Clark snuggled securely in the crook of his mother's shoulder. Jor smiled, bittersweet and with an undeniable tide of regret. For so long Jor and Lara had wanted a child. But Krypton strictly regulated reproduction, instituting population control policies by limiting the number of children per family. By right, Jor and Lara should have been permitted at least one child, but they were needed in the Krypton Investigative Sciences Division, their work deemed too valuable, the government proclaiming a child "an unnecessary distraction." Instead, the government had approved reproduction privileges to his brother Zor and his wife Alura, a beautiful baby girl the result.

And Lara had been crushed, her own dreams of motherhood doused by an unjust flame of government control and inhumanity.

Jor spun away from his family, his jaw set, eyes burning with defeat. He slid the curtain aside, once again looking for men he would never see until they wanted to be seen. But it was all he could do, for come tomorrow he would be no better than the Kryptonian government. At least when they denied their request to have a child, the rejection stung but neither he nor Lara really knew what they were being asked to give up. _Now we do. Now we know what it means to be a parent. Now we have Kal._

His son's name reverberated through his head. It was a strong, respectable Kryptonian name. A name they only dared call him during the safe space of their home. On his birth certificate, he was Clark El. Jor knew it was dangerous to give his son the family name, but what else of Krypton and his heritage did Lara and Jor have to give their only child? Now, on this fateful night, even that would eventually be lost to his son, the thought a painful one.

Jor released the curtain once more; the weight of what he must do drowning him where he stood. Once arriving at the decision, he'd tried to pray but no words came. What could he possibly say to Rao? Should he ask for forgiveness, a way to keep his tiny family intact, or for Rao to watch over and protect his little Kal El when Jor and Lara were no longer around to do so? Jor hadn't known, so the prayer had yet to come. He feared, now, that it never would.

He sank into the chair next to the window, unable to bring himself to join his wife and son. But nothing could stop blue eyes from staring at them. Tomorrow they would drive to the Kansas City Orphanage. Tomorrow they would arrive there as three but leave as two. They hadn't told Kal yet. Again, Jor hadn't been able to find the words. _There are none._ No, there weren't, at least none a boy of five would understand.

Lara stirred. Her eyes opened and found his immediately. The orbs were dull, their lifelessness mirroring his own. And they had been thus ever since they'd made the unforgivable decision. But their current life was not one meant for an innocent child. Jor and Lara wished only happiness for their Kal, even if that happy life came at the expense of their own beating hearts.

Gently, Lara rolled Kal onto his side and got out of bed. She walked towards Jor, bare feet soundless on the carpeted floor. Knowing what she needed, Jor opened his arms to her. She came, sat in his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, her forehead going to a broad but beleaguered shoulder.

Neither spoke, simply held each other, unable to grapple with the unbearable loss tomorrow would bring. Jor, for all his years of scientific training and research, his mind kept coming back to the same mathematical equations. _Jor plus Lara plus Kal equals joy. Jor plus Lara minus Kal equals sorrow. _

His math had always been flawless. But there was another equation that relentlessly dogged his conscience. _Kal minus Jor minus Lara equals . . .? _ Jor couldn't bring himself to finish that one, afraid of the endless possibilities, none good.

Warm tears, one, two, a stream fell, coating his neck, gouging at his heart, his resolve. And Jor still had no words of comfort, for himself or his heartbroken Lara. Words wouldn't fix this, only a changed mind could. And that was out of the question, not with the KSP nipping at their heels, eager to drag them back to Krypton, handing them over to the vile General Zod . No, Jor and Lara had lived under Krypton's oppressive boot for most of their lives; they refused to allow Kal to suffer the same fate.

Therefore, whatever inconsequential words Jor may have stumbled over stuck in his dry throat. But when they drove away from the orphanage, the backseat empty, an inconsolable Kal fighting to get away from the social worker, his pleading screams of "Don't leave me, Daddy," the words finally came, three and never enough: "I'm sorry, son."

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	2. Chapter 2: A Night at the Kents

**Chapter 2: A Night at the Kents**

**Metropolis, Kent Residence**

Clark dragged himself away from his laptop. The sun had set hours ago, not that he had noticed. He stretched, feeling stiff muscles crack and protest. He really needed to make more of an effort to join Diana during her daily workouts. When not writing, Clark managed to fit in a solid two-hour workout at least three times a week. But once ideas began to flow and his fingers sang across the keyboard, all but writing was nearly forgotten.

Turning off the light in his study, Clark closed the door after he exited, knowing, if he didn't, he'd find evidence of a familial invasion. A lost shoe. A half-eaten cookie. Knocked over books. And that was just from C.J. Clark shuddered. When the girls managed to get away from their nanny or Alfred, the damage to his precious study was so much worse. Clark didn't even want to think what he'd actually sat in the last time he'd left the door opened and they'd gotten inside.

Yawning, Clark made his way to his bedroom, Alfred diligent to leave a wall sconce on for him. At first, when Alfred Pennyworth had arrived on their doorstep, two months after the twins' births, Clark had been surprised. That feeling had grown into mild annoyance when Clark realized the British butler intended to stay and that Diana cheerfully welcomed the man into their new home.

As far as Clark knew, Diana hadn't asked Alfred for assistance with the home or the girls. He wasn't even sure if Clark and Diana had actually hired the man or whether Alfred Pennyworth had quietly, regally, conned his way into their lives and home. Whatever the odd origins, Alfred was now as ensconced in Clark's home as the damn sconces on the upstairs hallway walls, none of which Clark recalled purchasing, hanging, or even seeing before Alfred had moved in. And, really, it wasn't as if the elderly man needed to work for a living, no more than he did when Diana resided at Wayne Manor. Alfred Pennyworth was, quite frankly, "as rich as Croesus," as the man had once told him when Clark had deigned to pay the man for his services.

It wasn't that Clark disliked the butler. Alfred was pleasant enough, effective and undeniably efficient. He was excellent with the children, and Diana loved him. But Clark viewed Alfred as part of Diana's past, a past that included her marriage to Bruce Wayne. Once marrying him, Clark had foolishly assumed that very little of Diana's life with Bruce would carry over into her new life with him. Stupid, he knew. Yet the sight of Alfred on his doorstep, almost one year ago, had reminded Clark of the life she'd led during the ten years they were apart. _A happy married life._

Diana's marriage to Bruce had indeed been a happy one. And, if not for Bruce's murder, they would probably still be married. Clark halted at the entrance to his bedroom, the door before him closed, the house soothingly still. The presence of Alfred Pennyworth had been a cold jolt of suppressed jealousy and unease for Clark. Whereas Clark's marriage to Lois had been doomed from the start because Clark had allowed Diana to linger in his heart long after they'd broken up, Diana had not done the same. That truth, which he'd never shared with Diana, stung.

It was wrong of him, Clark knew. Diana had done nothing wrong by fully loving and committing to the man she'd agreed to marry. Their relationship was over, neither of them thinking they would reconcile. The logical part of Clark's brain understood this, yet a tiny insecure, even angry part of his heart wished Diana had held onto her love for him as tightly as he had. _Why? So she could've been as unsatisfied and guilty in her marriage as you were in yours? _

No, Clark never wanted Diana to be unhappy, even if the happiness she'd found wasn't with him. He . . . well, what Clark wanted was to know that a part of Diana had continued to love him, even when she was with Bruce. An admission he would never make, and words Diana would never speak. For if she did what would such a confession reveal about her character? How could Clark ever be secure in her love and commitment to him if she confessed to loving another while married to Bruce? _Yet you did the very thing to Lois._ Yes, yes he had, Clark eternally sorry for the pain he'd caused a good woman. He and Lois were still friends, but that status changed nothing about how he failed her and their marriage.

If he could, Clark would undo all the hurt he'd caused them both. But that wasn't the way of real life. The best any man could do was to learn from his mistakes. Clark had, his marriage to Diana built upon a solid foundation of love and trust. They weren't the same people they'd been when they dated in college and graduate school, and neither were they the same individuals who had been married to other people. While much of their old selves remained, through fire and wind they'd grown, evolved, mastering themselves and circumstances as much as the force of nature would allow.

Turning the knob, Clark opened the door and walked inside the bedroom, and then closed the door behind him. He sighed at the sight across the room. Not a surprising one, but a virtual nightly routine he'd expected to change the older the girls got. Just his luck, Catherine and Daphne still managed to hog the bed and Clark's wife with their downy blonde hair and sweet, sweet smiles. Diana fell for it every time, unable to resist when they pouted and whined, preferring to sleep in their parents' bed instead of their own.

Clark undressed, pulling off polo shirt and jeans, and tossing the dirty clothes into the hamper. Then he stood at the foot of the bed and contemplated his options. Catherine lay with one tiny hand wrapped in Diana's hair, fingers twisted in black locks that hung across Diana's breasts. The rest of the ten-month old pressed to her mother's midsection, bare legs straight and still. Daphne was no better. The child actually slept on her mother, chubby body sprawled across Diana's hip and thighs, one hand gripping Diana's nightgown, the other shoved in her drooling mouth.

He glanced to his side of the bed. Empty, as usual. He could turn down the covers, slip inside, and fall asleep without disturbing Diana and the girls. He'd done it before, more and more, if he were honest. Clark forced himself to think, when was the last time he and Diana had fallen asleep together? Or the last time he'd listened to his wife sing their girls to sleep or Clark read the twins a bedtime story? Two weeks? Four? He didn't know, and that fact alone said too much.

Diana understood, he knew. She never complained about Clark's late night writing or his excursions to the Adirondack cabin without her. She understood because Diana was no different when it came to League or Wayne Industries business. The major difference, however, was that Diana had to learn to leave her work at the office, whereas Clark's work was all too accessible, with him working out of a home office. He'd considered taking Diana up on her offer, allowing her to put him up at Wayne Industries. There was plenty of room. A small writing office set aside for the husband of the CEO would probably go unmentioned in the large, bustling building.

But Clark opted to work from home. He'd done the same when C.J. was born. It gave him uninterrupted time with the girls. The first year full of milestones he was loathe to miss, which was the reason Diana had taken almost six months before she returned to work. Even when she did, the first two weeks she'd called once an hour, irrational mother's guilt riding her until she returned home and saw for herself that her daughters were safe.

So the day belonged to daddy and the nights to mommy. Still, Clark missed watching Diana play with Catherine and Daphne, wrestling with them on their bed, laughter pouring from the twins when Diana tickled their feet then followed the finger assault with wet raspberries to piggly wiggly stomachs.

Clark smiled, warmth flooding him. His life was so full of love and joy. He and Diana had found each other again. From renewed love and passion, they'd created Catherine and Daphne, making Clark a proud father three times over. C.J. was healthy, too. The child hadn't had an epileptic seizure in a good long while. His son smiled and laughed more now, and had friends that weren't just of the imaginary variety. Life for the Kents was good. _And I'll do whatever I have to to keep it that way._

Clark lifted Daphne off her mother, the child limp in his arms. Moving to the open door that connected the girls' room to his and Diana's, Clark prayed he wouldn't step on a stray toy and wake the dead weight in his arms. Finding Daphne's crib, the one that conveniently converted into a toddler bed, Clark lowered his daughter to the mattress. Pausing, he waited to see if she would stir. When she didn't, he covered her with a yellow-and-pink blanket. A moment later, Catherine rest in the crib, on the other side of the room, sleeping just as silently as her younger sister was.

Making sure to switch on the night light and the baby monitor before he left, Clark pulled the door nearly closed. Turning, blue eyes met his.

"I guess I woke you."

Diana stretched and nodded. "It's kind of hard not to wake me when you had to pry Catherine's fingers from my hair."

"Yeah, well," he said, moving to the bed, "I was hoping you were too far gone to notice all the tugging and twisting." Clark climbed into the bed, propping two pillows behind his back when he saw Diana sit up and against the headboard. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand beside him. "It's after one, sweetheart, pretty late after the long, busy week you've had."

"It's a surprise, Clark, for you and the board."

"So you've said."

Diana's look was all too knowing. "Are you ready to tell me about the book you've been working on so diligently for the last three months?"

"Nope, that's my secret."

Diana smiled, "handling" him the way Detective Jones repeatedly accused Diana of treating him. The smart woman knew damn well he wasn't finished his book and that the contents, including the topic, was one he'd kept from all, even her. Lois knew, of course, but that was only because she was his agent. He'd sworn her to secrecy, and Lois was good as her word.

Diana gave a sleepy shrug, a nonchalant gesture that told Clark his wife was toying with him. Even if she was so inclined to tell him what she'd been working on herself, Diana wouldn't unless Clark also spilled his beans, which would put them at an impasse. Good thing both were invested in their secrets, which, in truth, were truly just surprises, just as Diana had said.

She raised her legs to her chest, the flat sheet falling to her ankles, her nightgown, already short, rising to her upper thighs.

Unable to help himself, Clark's eyes fell to the creamy flesh of her legs, the lamp on the nightstand just enough for him to make out how pretty and sexy his wife's legs were.

"You're such a man, Clark, stop staring at my legs as if you've never seen them before."

"You're my wife; I'm supposed to show appreciation for your body." He raised his eyes. "I dream about them, you know."

"You do not. You just made that up so I'd forgive your lecherous voyeurism."

"I did not make that up." He glanced back at her thighs. "When it comes to you, I can be lecherous on occasion and you've always managed to bring out my latent voyeuristic tendencies."

Diana laughed, a soft, sweet melody that vibrated with intimate awareness.

One hand came up to stroke a thigh, her laughter dying when Clark leaned over and pressed his lips to hers. Ahhh, she tasted better than her laughter, honey and peach.

"I wrote a poem tonight." He had. When writer's block had settled in, Clark's mind had turned to his beautiful wife and all the exquisite ways they pleased each other, Diana's body his guilt-free pleasure.

"Tell me," she whispered, their mouths touching, his finger now on her stomach, slowly gliding up and towards a breast.

"I'll tell then show."

Lips curved up into a smile a moment before Diana caught his wandering hand. "Tell, remember, then show."

Leaving his hand exactly where it was, Clark began, his voice deliberately low, his tone as sensual as he could make it.

"I look at you  
So many curves in glorious symmetry  
I wish I could trace it's imagery  
Slowly caressing as to never forget

Your lips so full  
A temptation to bite, nibble  
A wanting to kiss and devour  
Such a longing desire

Your hair shining like the black of night  
A midnight passion  
A breeze of seduction

Your eyes a world within a gaze  
So sensual  
Just one stare  
It's so unfair  
I get lost within you

Your hips wide  
A wish to kiss  
Side to side

I want to hold you slowly  
Make you see I'm the one for thee

You're precious like a rose  
Silk and smooth  
Your body perfect in every way  
Unique, simplistic  
A reality  
Beauty, sensuality, passion collide"

It was far from his best work, this Clark knew. But it was a poem drafted after too many cups of coffee and not nearly enough sleep.

Diana released the hand that had found a breast, gave him her I'm-tired-but-want-to-have-sex-anyway smile. Okay, maybe his poem wasn't so lame after all.

Slipping under the covers, Clark watched as a body moved between his sheet-covered legs, felt warm hands remove his boxers, and—_hell, yes_—take hold of his penis with wet mouth and firm hand.

Clark closed his eyes. There was nothing else to do but recline and enjoy what his wife was doing to him. And, _god_, she was phenomenal, knowing just how and where to lick, to suck, to grip him and drive Clark to the brink without pushing him over. Which, when Diana put it into her mind to bring him to his knees—literally and figuratively—she would play with his hairy boys while she worked him, moving fast then faster until he exploded.

At a little after one at night and Saturday morning Mommy and Me swim class more than ten hours away, Clark and Diana wouldn't take the time for a long sex session but the languorous way Diana was worshipping him, she obviously wanted more than a quickie.

After what she was doing to him, Clark could more than oblige his wife. Nope, not a problem.

Reaching one hand under the covers, Clark tunneled fingers into her hair and held on for dear life.

He moaned.

She stroked him harder, took him deeper.

He moaned again.

She didn't stop, kept her pace even, ignoring the unconscious way Clark's hand sought to control her loving.

He was close. She had to taste how close he was. But Diana held the reins tight. She wouldn't allow him to come until he was inside her.

So when she finally released him, her aroused body rising from beneath the covers, hair wild, eyes wicked, mouth glistening, Clark was ready for her, ready to show.

Diana straddled his thighs then lifted the nightgown up and over her head, tossing it onto her side of the bed.

Clark went for the lace panties she wore, hands gripping too desperately for the garment to survive this night. Two rips and he proved himself prophetic.

"Make love to me, Clark."

Oh, yeah, that damn sure was his intention.

Holding her hips as Diana rose; Clark couldn't help but watch as his manhood disappeared inside his wife, the satisfaction both physical and visual.

He kissed her, deep and long.

Diana's fingernails bit into his shoulders as she moved overtop of him, breasts and erect nipples gliding across his muscled chest. Clark moved with her, meeting Diana's downward slide with an upward thrust.

A cry sounded. Once. Twice.

For a moment, neither of their bodies registered the hellacious interruption. The kiss continued, tongues still mated, as did the rest of Diana and Clark.

_"Mom . . . ma. Mom . . . ma."_

Catherine.

That shrill, frantic cry pierced the erotic bubble.

The kissed stopped, so did all movement below the waist. It wasn't the first time, but—_dammit_—couldn't a man make love to his wife without his children cock blocking him? _Apparently not._

_"Mom . . . ma."_

Daphne.

And those were his early talking twins, thank you very much.

Without a word, Diana left the bed. Watching his naked wife, Clark wasn't surprised when Diana went to the girls' door, opened it fully but didn't enter. She smelled and tasted of sex. Diana wouldn't touch her daughters like that. But she did the next best thing to picking them up.

Diana sang.

Clark slid down the mattress and pulled the covers up to his shoulders. He loved Diana's contralto voice as much as Catherine and Daphne. In fact, he loved it too much, Diana's lullabies doing for him what they did for the girls.

Within minutes, Clark Kent was fast asleep, his last thoughts of morning sex and next week's visit with Kara and her fiancé.

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**TO BE CONTINUED**


	3. Chapter 3: Work in Progress

**Chapter 3: Work in Progress**

**Metropolis, Kent Residence**

**Part 1**

"Maybe you should wait a few more days." Kara watched Lor from her seated position on the bed. Dressed casually in blue jeans and a black turtleneck, her fiancée was much calmer than the situation warranted. Kara, on the other hand, could barely suppress her nerves. "I think it's too soon."

Hazel eyes stared down at her. Kara loved those eyes, loved the way they sparkled and danced when he looked at her. When they made love, he held her wonderfully close and his eyes fairly glowed with adoration Kara had never known.

Lor sat beside her, face tanned from the southern California sun, black hair cut short on the sides, medium length on the top with a matte finish. He was a handsome man by any measure, especially when he smiled, even better when he laughed. But Lor's smiles were few nowadays, his mission an emotional drain, which, in part, was why they were here.

"I don't think we can wait any longer, Kara. The longer we do the more innocent people who will be hurt, imprisoned, or worse. Something must be done."

She knew all of that. But Lor didn't understand Clark and Diana at all.

"We've been here a week already. I think things are going fine with your cousin and his family. Diana is kind. I think she's happy for us and likes me. Your uncle . . . well, he'll come around."

Again, Lor knew nothing of her family. Although, admittedly, Kara had only reestablished a relationship with Jor and Lara after they moved to the States two years ago. While Jor was a soft- spoken man, like her deceased father, he was also a man of strong convictions. And, for whatever reason, Uncle Jor's reception of Lor had been a decidedly chilly one. She intended to speak to him about it later, but tonight's discussion with Clark and Diana took precedence.

Kara held Lor's hand. He squeezed then smiled at her.

"Tonight is the night, Kara. I can feel it. We can do this. Diana is a reasonable woman. I'm sure she'll see the wisdom of my request."

Lor was confusing the Diana he'd met at her wedding and the Diana he's known from her visits to L.A. with Diana the businesswoman. He'd never seen that Diana, and that was who Lor would be making his request of.

"You will have to prove your case, Lor. Diana won't risk her reputation or put members of the Justice League in harm's way for anything short of a compelling argument and reason."

"We'll convince her."

"It's not that simple. Do you have any idea how many people seek out her and the League's help, or how many requests she turns down?"

"But ours is a righteous cause, Kara, surely Diana will see that, surely she will agree to help us."

Looking at her fiancée, Kara wondered how he'd reached the age of forty and managed to keep such a high level of idealism. She believed in him and his cause, of course, but Kara didn't share his optimistic outlook.

"Besides," —he raised her hand to his lips and kissed the knuckles— "she's your friend and cousin-in-law. Diana will listen to you, if not me then you."

Kara wanted to shake her head. Yes, she and Diana were friends, had been long before she and Clark had gotten back together. But friendship and love wouldn't sway her if Diana deemed Lor's proposition unsound or him untrustworthy.

"The trust Diana has in me, Lor, won't necessarily extend to you. All the people she trusts she's known for years—her board and her family."

"I'll soon be family that must count for something."

"It does, which is the reason why Clark allowed you to stay here with me."

And Clark was an obstacle of a different sort. Kara didn't even want to think of her cousin's reaction. _Or Uncle Jor's. _She decided to put it from her mind. _One-step at a time, Kara. One-step at a time._

"Have faith, Kara." Lor pressed a light kiss to her lips. "Thank you. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. I know I'm borrowing on your good family relations and the love the Kents and Els have for you. And, I know convincing Diana of the merits of my plan won't be easy and that you bringing me here will put you in the middle. I know all of this, and I love you all the more for standing by my side."

Kara loved him, too. But Kara had worked too long beside Hippolyta to ever be distracted or fooled by a man's tender words and hard body. No matter how much she loved Lor, if Kara didn't honestly believe in his cause and know his motivations originated from a good place, she would have never agreed to his plan. In the end, family was family, and Clark and Diana were hers.

Lor kissed her again. "We have a few minutes before we meet with your cousins."

Kara raised one blonde eyebrow at him. "We don't have enough time for that, Lor."

Lor jumped from the bed and pulled her up with him. "Not that, although I wish we did. Being with you always relaxes me. No, I thought we could peek in on the twins and I could try my luck attempting to figure out who's who."

"You've played that game all week."

"Yes, I know. One would think with a fifty-fifty chance I would actually guess right at least once."

He tugged her until they were out the room and headed to the playroom.

"Can you tell them apart?" he asked, standing in the open doorway, the nanny sitting on the floor with Kara's baby cousins, books, crayons, and toys everywhere.

Kara looked from one blonde child to the other. They stared back at her, their eyes just as quizzical. Kara sighed. "Maybe you'll have better luck than me because I've never been able to tell them apart."

* * *

**Part 2**

Diana wished Clark would just sit down and relax. No good would come from his constant pacing. Still, Diana knew better than to interfere with his useless brooding. Clark had a stubborn streak a mile long, and she could tell by the way he kept darting his eyes at the open door, Clark was ready to hear whatever it was Lor and Kara had to say to them.

So was Diana, but she saw no need to anticipate the worst, the way Clark seemed to be doing. Relaxing into the plush cushions of the loveseat where she sat, Diana sipped from her lime and water drink.

"I don't like him."

So he'd said at least ten times over the past week.

"Kara has terrible taste in men."

He'd said that just as many times, thankfully not in his cousin's hearing.

Diana drank more of her water then began a slow swing of her crossed leg. Clark was building to something bordering on irritating.

He stopped pacing and turned to her. "Don't you have anything to say? I mean, Kara is your friend. You've seen this before. She meets a guy, thinks he's the world, he uses and then dumps her."

That wasn't entirely false. Kara did have a poor record with men, but none of them had ever used and dumped her. Kara always did the dumping, and, sometimes, did the using, at least in the sexual sense. But Diana wasn't about to break Kara's confidence by sharing her dating record and conquests with Clark.

"She's been with Lor for a little longer than we've been married, Clark. I'd say that's a stable relationship. You should be glad your cousin finally found someone she wants to be with."

"So you're taking her side in this?"

Diana stopped swinging her foot and placed the glass on the table beside the loveseat. "There are no sides, Clark. Kara is a grown woman and knows what's she's doing. I don't understand why you're so opposed to her marriage to a man you hardly know."

Clark sat on the couch caddy corner to the loveseat.

"And don't you think that's odd?"

"What's odd?"

"That Kara is only now bringing Lor here to meet her family. Like you said, they've been together as long as we have yet I'm just getting to meet him."

"You've met him before."

Dark brows rose. "No I haven't."

"Sure you have. Kara brought Lor to our wedding. I think he got sick or something early on during the reception and retired to their room, but he was definitely there."

Clark scratched his head, and Diana could see her husband had zero memory of meeting Lor. "I would've remembered."

Diana doubted that. During the reception, all Clark kept saying was, "How much longer do we have to stay before we can leave? I want to remove your garter with my teeth then lick you all over." If it wasn't for the fact that Diana had seen Lor on several occasions after that, Diana doubted if she would've recalled meeting him either, her mind during the wedding reception no less on the wedding night than Clark's.

"Does it matter? You've met him now."

"What do you think of him, Diana? I mean, maybe I'm not seeing the guy clearly, because I'm a bit overprotective of Kara, despite her being ten years older than I am. He's charming; even I can see that. He's intelligent and well spoken. That's also clear."

"So what's the problem?"

Tense, Clark sat on the edge of the couch, legs apart, and elbows on knees. "I don't know. He just seems too smooth, too perfect. He says all the right things, does all the right things. I don't trust him."

Neither did Jor and Lara. Kara and Lor's first night in town, Clark and Diana had taken the family out to dinner. For the entirety of the meal, Jor hardly spoke but his eyes were like flints when he looked at Lor, or rather stared at him as if the man had come to steal Kara from her family. Diana didn't get it.

"I've seen Lor several times when we visited L.A. I've spoken to him. He seems like a nice guy and devoted to Kara. I'm sure he loves her, and I know she loves him. What else do you want me to say?"

"I don't know . . . something different I guess. You're a good judge of character, but I think you may be wrong about Lor. He's up to something and he's involved Kara. Why else would they suddenly come for a visit? Kara doesn't need anyone's permission to marry. Why now?"

Good question. Clark's judgment was also sound. He wasn't given to flights of fancy or irrational behavior. Yet his reaction to Lor made no sense to Diana.

"And why is it, Diana, that every trip you've taken to L.A. since we've married has been with me and I've never seen Lor? I heard about him, of course, but how is it possible that every time we've been there the man manages to find you whenever I'm not around?"

It was another good question for which Diana had no adequate response. The chances of that occurring without intent exceeded the limits of coincidence.

"Why would Lor want to cultivate a friendship with me but not you?"

"That's what I want to know, but I think we'll find out soon enough."

True. Kara and Lor were due to meet them in the living room at seven thirty. It was almost fifteen after.

Clark stood from the couch, went to the living room door and slid them closed. This time when he sat, he claimed the seat cushion beside Diana.

"We need to talk."

Whatever Clark had to say, Diana's lime and water wouldn't be enough to get her through. Because Clark didn't want to talk, her husband wanted to argue. Diana saw the firm set of his jaw and his unblinking stare and knew she was right. Obviously, his foul mood was about more than Lor and Kara.

"What's on your mind, Clark?"

"Alfred."

"Alfred? What about him?"

"How long do you plan on keeping him here?"

This was what was bugging Clark, an elderly man who doted on their girls?

"I'm not the one who invited Alfred to stay. That would be you."

He looked shocked. "I did not hire the man, Diana, you did."

She sat up straighter. "No one hires Alfred Pennyworth. He hasn't had to work since 1980. The man's rich. I should know; Wayne Industries manages his portfolio."

"I know he's rich. He told me as much when I tried to pay him."

Now Diana was just confused. "Why in the hell would you try to pay Alfred?"

"Because," Clark bit out, "you hired him to take care of the household. I thought the least I could do was pay the man."

"Wait. What? I didn't hire Alfred."

"Then why in the hell is he still here?"

"Because he has no family of his own and you asked him to stay. When we first brought the girls home, all the mothers were here, hovering about, cooking, cleaning and helping us adjust. Then, when they left, I realized exactly how much they'd done for us, for me. I was overwhelmed with the responsibility of taking care of two babies."

Diana recalled those hairy early days of motherhood. She'd been a wreck –tired and weepy, thinking herself the most incompetent mother in the world. Playing stepmother to a six-year old C.J. was nothing compared to being a primary caregiver for babies who depended on her for everything. So when Alfred had arrived on their doorstep, offering to stay for a couple of weeks, Diana thought him a godsend. And when he continued to stay past the two weeks, she'd assumed Clark had asked him to stay awhile longer. After that, well, weeks turned into months and Diana hadn't given Alfred's presence in her home another thought. _Clearly, Clark has._

"I never asked Alfred to stay." Clark was calmer now. "I thought you had."

"No, but he is like Nanny McPhee, except his magic works on us instead of the girls."

Clark snorted. "You really need to stop allowing C.J. to con you into watching movies with him. But you're right. Alfred manages us quite nicely."

"Why would I hire Alfred?" She thought she knew, but Diana hoped she was wrong.

Clark cleared his throat. "Never mind. Let's just forget I brought it up. I'm good with Alfred being here now that I know you didn't hire him."

"Tell me. You brought it up now tell me."

More throat clearing. "Well . . . umm, I just thought you liked having Alfred around because he reminded you of when you were married to Bruce."

Exactly as she'd thought, and it pissed Diana off.

She stood, walked away from Clark and to the unlit fireplace. They'd agreed not to talk about their first marriages, which, Diana thought, worked quite well for Clark considering Bruce was dead. Apparently, things left unsaid were just things left to fester.

"I'm married to you now, Clark. I don't need anything or anyone to remind me of Bruce. Why would I?"

Clark looked uncertain whether he should speak his heart. Diana wished he would. If, for whatever reason, Bruce was still between them, Diana wanted that barrier to their marriage forever banished from her husband's mind and heart.

"Did you ever think of me?" Clark stood and joined her by the fireplace. "When you were married to Bruce, did you ever think of me? I know I shouldn't ask. Hell, I told myself to never ask, that it would be wrong of me to ask such a thing of you. But, god, Diana, I just need to know that while I was tormenting myself that you just didn't forget I existed.

The pain in his eyes went straight to Diana's heart, as did the disbelief that Clark could ever think their time together meant so little to her that she would choose to forget him. Even Bruce understood how much she'd loved Clark.

Diana's hands went to Clark's cheeks, her thumbs stroking high cheekbones. "Of course I thought of you, my dear, stubborn husband. How could I not? What we shared back then was special, no matter how it ended. Just because I worked hard to make a life for myself with Bruce that doesn't mean you didn't still own a piece of my heart. I never stopped loving you, Clark, but I did stop _being_ in love with you. I'm sorry if that's not what you wanted to hear because I don't know what else to say to make you feel better about me marrying and loving someone else."

Despite how Clark's marriage to Lois ended, he'd married a woman he loved and was quite compatible with. At any time, Clark could've cemented that relationship and fully loved his first wife. It wasn't lost on Diana that Clark hadn't been the one to ask for the divorce. Nor did she fail to realize that Lois divorcing Clark was not the same as her ceasing to love the man. And Diana was no damn fool, because, without a doubt, Lois Lane was still in love with Clark Kent.

Her husband, the man worried about a dead man who was no threat to their marriage. But Lois, well, she had taken Billy Batson as her lover. Batson was a twenty-three year old Wayne Industries security guard whom Diana had assigned to protect Lois when the mess with Luthor and Ghul was at its zenith. Now the woman was sleeping with a man who could pass as Clark's younger brother. If that didn't scream how she still felt about Clark, Diana didn't know what would.

But Clark would have to come to see the truth in his own time. He was far too emotional today for Diana to lay anything more at his feet. Clark didn't handle guilt well, and if he knew how much of a trial it was for Diana to befriend a woman who seemed to be waiting for their marriage to dissolve so she could be there to help Clark pick up the pieces, proving he'd been mistaken all along in loving Diana while married to Lois, Clark would blame himself.

Diana didn't want that, so she pulled her husband to her, kept Lois's secret and whispered, "I love you, Clark. I've loved you for most of my life. When we broke up, I thought you no longer loved me. Even still, I could never dismiss you completely from my heart, my soul. Please know I speak the truth. If Alfred reminds you that I once loved Bruce and makes you uncomfortable in your own home, I'll ask him to leave."

"You would do that? Even though you love him and would be sad to see him go?"

"You, our marriage, and our daughters are the most important things to me. Everything else, including Alfred, is a distant second. Letting him go will hurt, but not having you completely secure in this marriage, our home, will hurt far worse."

"You're serious?"

Of course she was. They were married, but that only meant they had a lifetime to figure themselves and each other out. Marriage was a work in progress, and their two-year marriage was definitely that. But Diana wouldn't permit a deceased Bruce or a live Lois to come between her and her heart, her Clark, her husband.

"Yes. I'm serious."

"I think," he said, giving Diana one of his Smallville bear hugs, "we need to talk more about our marriages, clear the air. I don't want stuff like that between us. I thought it would hurt less if we didn't talk about it, but I was wrong."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Good for him, she thought, because Diana wasn't. But she also knew she would talk, if Clark needed to. Yet this wasn't Clark being his old, insecure self rising to the fore. Something much deeper was going on with Clark, he'd been a fitful sleeper these past few weeks. Diana had chocked it up to his late night writing and high coffee consumption, now however, she wondered if today's bout of insecurity had different origins. Yes, they definitely needed to talk.

Clark kissed her cheek then set her from him when a knock came.

Clark went to the sliding doors and opened them. On the other side were Lor and Kara, five minutes late and too serious expressions on their faces. Clark stepped aside and permitted them to enter, and then closed the door behind them.

Lor held an iPad in his right hand. From the firm way he gripped the mobile device, Diana knew her husband had been correct. Whatever he intended to show them on that iPad of his was the true reason for his and Kara's visit.

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	4. Chapter 4: For Love of Home & Country

**Chapter 4: For the Love of Home and Country**

**Metropolis, Kent Residence**

Clark knew he was staring at Kara's well-put together fiancée with clear distrust. He knew it and decided he just didn't care. If Ma were here, she'd probably scold him for the rude way he was treating his cousin's guest. Clark couldn't bring himself to think of Lor as his and Diana's guest. Lor was simply someone he'd found himself forced to tolerate, which was unusual for Clark. Upon a first meeting, Clark tended to give people the benefit of the doubt, holding back judgment until they'd proven themselves one way or another. But the man before Clark, the one looking at Diana as if she held the answers to Lor's universe, had troubled Clark the moment he'd laid eyes on him.

He knew when he'd been introduced to Lor and had shaken his hand that Kara had chosen poorly. Worse, Clark sensed in that deep, protective place that came with being a man and husband, that Lor Ui, if allowed, would be the downfall of Diana Kent. _That I absolutely will not allow._

Diana glanced at the Deco Round Roman wall clock on the wall over the fireplace, and then back at Lor. She smiled at him. A small smile Clark knew too well and it didn't bode well for whatever Lor had planned. In Diana's rigid businesswoman world, Lor had already erred. So Clark smirked at the man and waited for what Clark knew would be the first words out of Diana's mouth.

"It's seven thirty-five, Lor. Our appointment was for seven thirty. You're five minutes late. You now have twenty-five minutes to state what I assume to be a proposal."

Ah, yes, the time conscience Wayne Industries CEO at her best. _That's strike one, Lor._

Lor's face reddened at Diana's firm, uncompromising words. He turned to Kara who only shrugged and said, "She's her mother's daughter. I suggest we get to the reason why we requested this meeting."

Interesting, Clark thought. Kara seemed to be just as invested as Lor in the reason behind this meeting - Lor's partner, which made sense since they were, after all, soon to become man and wife. Still, Clark didn't like the way Kara had aligned with Lor. She should have come to Clark and Diana first before inviting an outsider to what should have been a private family meeting. Clark also didn't appreciate the obvious fact that Kara had clearly spoken strategy with Lor, her easy comment about Hippolyta saying as much.

Diana gestured for everyone to be seated. Lor and Kara sat on the loveseat, while Diana and Clark claimed the couch. He was feeling possessive and protective of his wife. The irrational, caveman side of him that kept rearing its male-dominant head, grunted at him to hoist Diana over his shoulder and flee. But the evolved man that still resided within Clark Kent knew his wife would flay him alive if he treated her as anything other than the capable and competent woman that she was.

This was her domain, he told himself. She could handle the likes of Lor Ui. His role, and Clark knew it well, was as a silent sentry. Diana would let Clark know when his knowledge and skills were needed. She always did.

Lor pulled back the front case cover of his iPad. Fingers slid over a screen Clark couldn't see.

"First, I want to apologize for being late, Dr. Kent. I'm normally quite punctual and, I assure you, if we become business partners, it won't happen again. I won't waste anymore of your time with my polite ramblings." Lor turned the iPad so it was facing Diana, the tablet held on his lap. "There's a short video I would like to share with you."

Lor was very close to strike two, his omission of Clark as an equal in this meeting painfully apparent. Diana didn't tolerate that type of disrespect of him or anyone else with whom she worked and trusted.

"I suggest you use your remaining time to get to the point, Lor. Your video production can wait. I'm more interested in your thoughts than an audio-video presentation I can watch anytime. Instead, I would like for you to tell me why you've flown thousands of miles to see _us_."

The "us," was a subtle hint Lor would do well to heed. But the way the man's laser-focused eyes remained on Diana, Clark was sure he missed her slight reprimand. _Definitely strike two._

"Well we—"

"Not you, Kara," Diana said, holding up one hand and silencing the older woman, the ten-year difference in their ages irrelevant in Diana's world of business and negotiations.

Kara was out of her depth here. While she may have worked alongside Hippolyta for many years, serving as her trusted General Manager of the West Coast Paradise Island Resort and Spa, management was not the same as leadership and administration. Hippolyta understood such critical distinctions, as did Diana.

"Please proceed, Lor, Clark and I are listening."

Diana's posture was as relaxed as Clark's was tense. Clark glanced from Lor to Kara. They, too, showed the telltale signs of tension – taut face, hunched shoulders, and light pallor.

Lor breathed deep then began to speak. "Well, I'm sure you know about the civil war in Krypton. It's been all over the news the last few months. The old and new regimes are fighting for dominance."

_Krypton? This is about Krypton? _

From his name, Clark had known Lor was Kryptonian, although, outside of his own family, Clark knew few Kryptonians. Despite the instability of the nation, few Kryptonians could be found any place other than Krypton. His parents were rare exceptions. And hardly any non-Kryptonians resided in the country. The slogan "Krypton for Kryptonians" was not just a political and social sentiment but a warning, as well.

"Of course I'm aware."

Diana would have to live in a bubble to not know what was going on over there. As chairwoman of the Justice League, it was her business to stay abreast of national and international issues, particularly human rights concerns.

"President Obama is putting together a diplomatic delegation who will travel to the country in the hope of arranging peace talks with the two sides."

Lor smiled, all wide and white teeth, obviously pleased with how much Diana knew about the inner workings of the White House.

Clark glowered at the jerk, already knowing his request of Diana but not the reason why beyond the fact that Lor was Kryptonian.

"So you know innocent people have been put in the middle. Some have died. Others have been arrested for protesting both sides. This is just the beginning, but not the first time Kryptons had political upheaval."

Clark knew little of his parents' homeland. Hell, until he'd seen his birth certificate, learned his original last name, and looked it up at school, he didn't even know he was Kryptonian or even where in the hell Krypton was. That was when he was fourteen and in the ninth grade. Since then, well, Clark hadn't actually made it his mission to enlighten himself on all things Kryptonian.

Yet listening to Lor, hearing his passion as he spoke about a place Clark had been to only once, a twinge of shame crept into his heart. Diana, while born in America like Clark, had acquired dual citizenship, claiming Greece as her home as much as she claimed the good ole U.S. of A. She also spoke and wrote fluent Greek, as did her sister, Hippolyta ensuring they knew and respected their Greek heritage. Diana also visited the island nation, beyond the annual visit she and Donna made to see her father Ambrose.

Diana was connected to her past in a way Clark never was, growing up without his biological parents denying him the opportunity to learn or even care about any aspect of Kryptonian culture. For so long, Clark Kent was simply a Midwesterner from Smallville, Kansas, son of Jonathan and Martha Kent.

Krypton meant nothing to him. It had never been his home. Only thing Krypton had ever done was take Jor and Lara from him. Now that they were back in Clark's life, Lara and Jor El once again on American soil, Krypton meant even less to Clark. Yet here was Lor Ui, unintentionally mocking Clark's dismissal of that part of himself with his damn, overwrought patriotism.

"That's the reason for the delegation, Lor. No one wants this war to escalate. The international community is, unfortunately, awash with similar political discontent, anarchy, and human rights abuses. Krypton, for all that it is your home is but one of many destabilizing countries, right now. What is it that you think I can do?"

"As former Ambassador to the United Nations, you know the country, the surrounding region, and their unique issues. You have connections that could prove useful if you were on President Obama's peace team."

Just as Clark thought and feared. The fool man came here thinking he could convince Clark's wife and mother of his children into somehow talking her way onto a delegation headed to a country on the brink of all-out war. The selfishness of the request alone had Clark's insides boiling. Worst, when Clark peered at his cousin, Kara was nodding her blonde head in total agreement. _Damn them both. _

"And you're the face of the Justice League. That carries a lot of weight abroad. You speak to the common man and woman. They listen. They respect and like you. A strong, beautifully vibrant force of good is what's needed now. Krypton's days of communism and tyranny is coming to a quick but brutal end. It's time for a new path, a democratic one. That's what the Justice League stands for – freedom, justice, hope, and democracy."

Lor was almost salivating, so hard was he kissing Diana's ass and trying to stroke an ego that didn't exist. Kara should've schooled her lover better, even Donna, the most vain of the Prince women, didn't swallow a bad pill coated in thick, sweet molasses.

If Clark hadn't been so certain of his wife's decision, although she had yet to give it, he would've given in to the overwhelming urge to throw Lor Ui out on his presumptuous ass.

"I can see why you're an effective lobbyist, Lor. Your passion and zeal are quite impressive." Diana reached and sipped from her glass of water. Placing it back on the table in front of her, she lifted her eyes back to Lor and considered him for a few seconds before she next spoke. "I'm sure you've read much about me and the Justice League. With the Internet, the world is so much smaller and little happens that doesn't find its way onto the World Wide Web. I'm also sure that Kara has shared what she knows as well. The problem, Lor, is that most of what's posted about the League is, at best, half-truths. I know because we have very good people, trustworthy people who take care of that kind of stuff for us. More," —she faced Kara— "no offense, my friend, but you know even less."

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

"Where is that—"

Clark reached into the space between the cushions where he and Diana sat and pulled out what she was looking for.

"Thank you." Turning off the timer before it sounded again, Diana pocketed her cell phone after she rose from the couch. "It's eight o'clock, Lor, and your twenty-five minutes have expired."

"But—"

"It's time for the girls' bath, and tonight I'm on bath and bed duty."

Kara and Lor stood; stunned frowns on their faces. Did neither of them get the Diana-is-a-time-obsessed-control freak memo?

"You love your country. I understand. Kara loves Krypton, I've always known that and I can't imagine how painful it must be to see your home country embattled. I, too, want peace in that region of the world. But one thing you must understand, the Justice League, for all that we believe in the things you mentioned, do not embroil ourselves in political disputes. We don't take sides. We can't take sides."

"But you go into places where people are suffering. I know that much is true. And there are so many suffering Kryptonians. Surely you can't turn your back on the suffering of others."

"You're asking for more than that. Let's not play games, Lor."

Clark stood beside his wife, sensing her ire at Lor's challenge.

"Krypton is an unstable country. If the Justice League goes in now, whether we wish it, we'll be forced to take a side, or the public will simply assume that we have taken a side or spin our presence there in a multitude of ways."

"Then just you, Dr. Kent, Diana. The Kryptonian president may be willing to listen to you, a renowned businesswoman."

"As you've already said, I'm the face of the League. No one will see my visit there as anything other than League business. Besides, I made a promise to my husband I refuse to break, no matter how compelling the humanitarian cause. President Obama will send his delegation. I have every faith he will select the right people for the peace mission. Krypton has a chance, but its' future does not hinge on my role or lack thereof." Diana glanced at the wall clock then frowned. "Dammit, I'm late."

For the first time in several weeks, the foreboding collar that had been slowly choking him, causing sleepless nights and regurgitated insecurities, began to ebb, allowing him to breathe. This was what his nightmares had been about. It finally made sense, the dread, the irritation, the anger, the debilitating fear for Diana's safety.

Diana made her way to the living room door and slid them open. She faced Kara and Lor before she left. "You spoke of communism and the need for Krypton to become a democratic state. I think we all agree that democracy is the political system that has the best chance of protecting the rights and freedoms of a nation's citizens. But democracy can also exist within a communist nation because communism is an economic not a political system. Unfortunately, most communist countries throughout history have also ascribed to political systems that have limited the rights of its people – dictatorships, oligarchies. Your Krypton is no different in that vein. For all that we try to do in the League, Lor and Kara; in the end, we have no legal standing. We have no country or government behind us. Which means, our only protection if something goes wrong, are ourselves. What you desire is admirable, but what you ask is unsafe and ill advised. I'm sorry. I really am. Clark will preview the video and if after watching it he thinks there are methods the League could employ to indirectly aid the good people of Krypton, he will let you know."

Seeing his lobbying efforts going down in flames, Lor protested. "But, you are—"

"Clark's equal, his other half, as he is mine. In matters of the League, when you speak to him, it's the same as speaking to me. Try to remember that the next time you treat my husband as if he's part of the décor - to be acknowledged and then ignored."

With that, Diana swept from the room, her steps quick, running, Clark knew, to relieve the twins' nanny for the evening.

"I can't believe she . . ." Kara began, looking where Diana had just been then snapping her mouth shut in bafflement. "Will you at least view the video, Clark?" she asked, her attention, like Lor's, on him.

So now he mattered? Less than a minute ago, Clark was just the husband of the woman with all the power. That wasn't how the League worked. Yes, Diana may have been the face, the image, but, unlike Krypton, she did not rule, she did not dictate. They discussed, they argued, they compromised, they decided, together, as a team - a roundtable of men and women.

"Sure, Kara, show me the video. If there's some way the League can help, I'll do my best to persuade the members. But understand this, any assistance will not involve Diana or any other League member going into Krypton or engaging in actions that may give the public the slightest reason to connect us with the president of the country or the rebel leader."

"It's a lot less than what we were hoping for but it's better than nothing." Kara sat back down.

She looked up at Lor who still stood, his face a broken mask of disappointment. She sought his hand and held it, the affection in the warm way Kara looked at him plain. Diana was right; his cousin was in love. Unfortunately, the man she'd finally given her heart to was a delusional patriot of the worst order. Did he honestly think Diana would pick up the phone, dial President Obama, and request to be included on a team she knew little about and had no governmental reason to be even considered for? Did he think her such a naïve, social reformer that Diana would leave her husband and ten-month old daughters behind with no guarantee of her safe return? And did Lor actually think, even if he managed the impossible and talked Diana into his asinine plan that Clark would stand by and say nothing, simply let him board his wife onto the next plane to Krypton and to her death?

Forget that Diana had promised him, when he'd agreed to accept her plan of using herself as bait to catch the men who'd killed her first husband and unborn child, that she would never willingly put herself in harm's way, Clark would gag and bind the woman if she ever got it into her stubborn head to do something so foolish again. Civilized man be damned, when it came to protecting his family, Caveman Clark ruled the roost.

Giving the stunned Lor a tug, Kara finally got him to sit beside her. All the hope Clark had seen in his eyes earlier was now vanished under a woman's rejection. Picking up the iPad, Kara did something to the screen before using the prop feature on the black case to set it up on the table near the couch.

Leaning against the cushions, Clark watched the scenes before him unfold. Lor and Kara were on the live footage. While Clark had only been to Krypton once, the buildings and mountainous landscape of Argo City were unforgettable – majestic and ancient. A city stuck between the past and the future.

The people spoke Kryptonian, which meant Clark understood nothing they said, but one didn't need to speak the language to see the fear, sadness, and anger on their faces – young and old alike. Nor did he need Lor and Kara's translations to make out the ravages done to homes and businesses, bullet holes everywhere. Then there were the dead bodies, bullet holes in them, too.

Strike three.

Cold fury went through Clark, voice icicles, his anger all for Kara. "Turn it off."

She did, pushing Pause.

"You were going to show this carnage to Diana?"

"I thought she needed to see for herself why the work of the League is so important, how desperate the citizens of Krypton are for a savior, a hero. I thought—"

"You thought. You. Thought. You did not think, Kara. What has this man done to your mind that you would even consider showing such footage to your friend, my wife? Have you forgotten what the hell happened to her? Have you lost your damn mind? There were dead children in that so-called documentary of yours."

"Just calm down, Clark. There's no need to yell at your cousin."

_"Get the hell out."_

"What. I'm just saying that—"

"Get the hell out of my sight, Lor, right now or so help me god I'm going to hit you so hard you'll be in Krypton wishing you'd never been born."

When the asshole didn't immediately move, Clark stood and began walking towards him. Lucky for Lor, Kara understood the threat and hustled her fiancée out of the living room. She should have gone with him, because Clark was so mad at her that he was seeing red.

"How could you, Kara?" How could she be so blind and insensitive? How could she not know that, no matter how tough Diana may come off, she was a still a victim of gun violence? She had the bullet wounds to prove it. She was a survivor, yes, but not invincible, not fearless, not someone who needed her husband's cousin reminding her of the worst day of her life just to garner sympathy for a cause much bigger than Diana and the League.

"It didn't occur to me. It should have. Shit, Clark, I just thought if she saw their pain and suffering she would understand and help. Her children are half-Kryptonian. I thought Diana would want to do what she could to make sure her children could one day safely visit the home of their grandparents."

Clark barely registered Kara's babbling. She sounded remorseful. He believed she meant every ridiculous word she was spouting. And Clark could give one iota. Kara should have known better. There was no excuse for what she had almost done to a woman she'd known for over a decade. Clark could perhaps excuse her poor judgment with the request. Unlike him, Kara had been born in Krypton and lived the first eighteen years of her life there. It had been her home and the home of her deceased parents. He knew how much she loved the country, visiting often, even talking of eventually moving back.

So, no, Clark couldn't begrudge his cousin her love for Krypton or her desire to see it democratized and stable. But the rest, well, hell yes, he held that against her.

"I'm sorry. You're right. I didn't think when it came to the video. I'll apologize to Diana but you must know I would never do anything to deliberately hurt Diana. I love her, you know that."

Yeah, Clark did know, which was the only reason he hadn't thrown Kara and Lor out of his house. But he was tired of discussing this, tired of thinking and dreaming about losing Diana to unforeseen forces.

Suddenly exhausted, Clark slumped to the couch.

"You want me to leave, don't you? You're mad."

"If you want to apologize, I'm sure Diana will accept. But don't bother her tonight, not during her evening time with the girls." Clark dropped his head against the couch and closed his eyes. "Now go away, Kara. We'll talk more tomorrow."

Clark heard Kara as she made her way to the living room door, her heels clicking on the floor.

"By the way, not that I think it matters a damn to you, but I don't like your fiancée. And if you marry Lor, don't ever think to bring him here with you again because he won't be welcomed."

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	5. Chapter 5: Protective Admissions

**Chapter 5: Protective Admissions**

**Metropolis, Kent Residence**

**Part 1**

Diana considered the words she'd written. She'd been mulling over the bridge to the song for the last fifteen minutes. After five drafts, she was pleased with the sixth, already able to hear the song in her head. This was her first attempt at songwriting. The feelings were there. That was the easy part. The hard part, Diana discovered, was channeling her love for Clark into lyrics. He managed to do it each time he penned a poem for her. The stanzas lovely, precise, moving, much like the songs she sang for C.J. and the girls. But those songs, while beautiful and special, were also quite generic, written for no one and everyone. Diana, for once, wanted to gift her husband with something she'd written, something that came purely from the heart and her imagination, something Clark could treasure the same way Diana treasured his love poems.

While Diana was a novice lyricist, at best, reading over what she'd written, she admitted to herself that the song was actually pretty good. Not that Clark would care or even mention if it was the worst song he'd ever heard, her husband too sentimental and polite to tell her such a thing. But Diana did want it to be good. His pleasure at her singing pleased her more than he knew. So, yes, Diana wanted Clark to sincerely like the song she'd written for their second wedding anniversary. The special day was nearly three months away, but Diana didn't want to wait until the last minute to get started. After the lyrics came the music, and that was the part she would need the most help, getting the sound from her head and into something that could be played on an instrument. She was a fair pianist, and she'd composed a little, but Diana's natural talents weren't in such creative designs. Yet, for Clark, she'd unearthed and dusted off a side of herself she'd never known existed.

The bedroom door opened on silent hinges. Diana glanced up from her white legal pad. Clark stood in the doorway, looking handsome, virile and so very tired. He entered then closed the door. Blue eyes shifted to his side of the bed, settled there for long seconds, and then sought her.

Diana sat propped on the bed, her back against the headboard. The lamp on her side of the bed was on while the lamp on Clark's side was off, casting the left side of the room in shadows. As their eyes met, Diana saw more than fatigue there.

Annoyance.

It would be so easy for Diana to blame Lor and Kara's request for her husband's annoyed state. Sure, Clark had been the perfect silent partner during the meeting, but a silent Clark was often worse than a vocal one. And, sure, Lor had disrespected Clark in his own home, which pissed Diana off. All were good, solid reasons for Clark to be annoyed. Yet none of those good, solid reasons was the true culprits for Clark's current mood.

She sighed then dropped the pad and pen onto the comforter. It was five after eleven and Diana, as usual, had allowed time to slip by while Clark wrote. This wasn't the first time he'd looked at her the way he was now, although she'd promised herself and him that it wouldn't happen again.

"I'll take the girls to their room." Diana began to rise, but Clark was already heading across the room and to his side of the bed where Daphne and Catherine slept. "I said I'll get . . ."

Gently, Clark lifted Catherine into his arms, and then carried her into her room.

Diana didn't bother helping him, by getting Daphne because once he got like this it was best to give him space. Besides, Clark wouldn't appreciate her belated effort.

Once both girls were settled into their own beds, nightlight and baby monitor on, door slightly ajar, Clark returned to his and Diana's room.

In silence, he undressed, throwing his clothing in a chair instead of in the hamper where he normally did, which meant Clark was more than a little annoyed.

Without a word, Clark moved into the master bath. Diana listened as he brushed his teeth and prepared for bed. Within minutes, he was back, hair damp, undershirt off, boxers wrinkled from wear.

Dropping to the floor, Clark began a set of push-ups. Diana decided to wait until he finished, but once completing five sets of twenty push-ups, Clark turned over and started in on stomach crunches. She waited longer, but Clark kept going, moving from one floor exercise to another.

Diana didn't know why he did this. While working out, preferably sparring with the Furies, helped Diana burn off stress and steam, exercising did none of those things for Clark. It was just his way of delaying, which, in truth, was an effective way of punishing a woman who preferred to take her lumps of coal and be done with it.

She hated to wait, and Clark knew exactly how much.

Diana crawled to the foot of the bed and sat. Clark had worked up quite a sheen of sweat, and if he weren't obviously upset with her, Diana would've enjoyed nothing more than sliding all over that rippling, moist body of his. But he was upset, and they needed to talk, so she kept her hands to herself.

"I'm sorry."

Crunches turned into flutter kicks into hamstring curls into squats and then back to more push-ups.

"I said I'm sorry, Clark. Please stop and talk to me."

"For what?" he asked, voice breathy from exertion. "What are you going to say that I haven't already heard a dozen times?"

A few expertly done lunges preceded a bridge exercise that worked Clark's glutes.

Knowing he wouldn't stop until he completely exhausted himself, Diana slid from the bed and sat beside him, deciding to talk whether he wanted to listen or not.

"I know I've said it before, but I really am sorry. I know I have to let the girls sleep in their own beds. I know I can't keep allowing them to share our bed. I also know we need time to ourselves in the evening and that we haven't had much of that because the girls are so accustomed to sleeping with us."

Clark said nothing, just continued his workout. But why should he speak, Diana had yet to say anything new or different? Worse, the fact that she was aware of so much but did little to rectify the situation only endorsed Clark's well-placed annoyance.

"It's me, Clark," Diana admitted. "I know it's me and not Catherine and Daphne. If I'd allow it, they would grow used to sleeping a full night in their own bed and room."

After giving birth to the twins, Diana hadn't spent one night apart from them, not even the times when Martha or Lara volunteered to babysit them overnight or for a weekend so Diana and Clark could have time to themselves. Diana had always declined, even though she trusted both grandmothers, knew her daughters would be safe with them.

In the beginning, Clark was patient when Diana exhibited bouts of overprotectiveness. He'd indulged her irrational need to check on the girls several times a night, even when they slept soundly. When she'd awake in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, stomach aching from a bullet that had already done its damage, Clark would kiss her until she calmed. Then he would say nothing when she would leave their bed and go into their daughters' room and fall asleep in the rocking chair just so she could be close to them, secure they lived and were safe from monsters like the Joker and Bane.

"I know I promised, and I am trying. I didn't mean to allow them to fall asleep in our bed. I meant to take them back to their room after I read them a bedtime story."

But one story had turned into three, and by the fourth they were asleep, Diana loathe to disturb them. Then she'd pulled the legal pad from her nightstand drawer, and the time had gotten away from her. She'd intended to have their daughters in their own room before Clark turned in for the night. But their little bodies felt so natural and good lying next to her, the sense of security she felt having them so close had Diana ignoring the voice telling her she was holding them too tightly and creating tension in her marriage.

Diana touched one of Clark's bent knees, and he stopped when he lifted his back off the floor from a sit-up.

Finally, he looked at her.

"It's still hard for me. The first day I returned to work, the entire drive into Gotham I cried. I felt stupid and pathetic, but I couldn't stop the tears."

In truth, she hadn't made it to work that day. She'd parked in the garage of Wayne Industries but couldn't bring herself to go in. She'd sat there for the entire day, trying to convince herself that nothing would happen to Daphne and Catherine while she was away from them. She told herself repeatedly that just because she lost one child to violence and cruelty didn't mean she would lose Daphne and Catherine, as well. She told herself that until she pacified herself enough for her to drive home.

The next day was marginally better. Diana had only cried the first thirty minutes of her commute and actually managed to make it to her office before she burst into another bout of debilitating sobs.

"I know all the things I need to do, should be doing."

"You still have the nanny cam in the playroom, Diana. Mrs. Reynolds has been with us for six months. You had both Jones and Dick run background checks on her and her family, and nothing showed up. She's fantastic with the girls. We both like her, and she gets along with Alfred. Yet you still can't bring yourself to fully trust her."

Diana leaned against the bed, dropping her hand from Clark's knee. He was right. Trust no longer came easily for Diana. The world was too full of dangerous and dishonest people. _But you can't shelter the girls from the world, from reality. _But, oh, how she wanted to. If Diana could wrap the twins in an impenetrable bubble, protecting them from the harsh and ugly truths of life, she would do exactly that. _But what of the joy and beauty that is also life? That can't be experienced in a mother's overprotective bubble. _

No, no it couldn't. Diana knew that to be another truth.

"I'll take care of the cameras before she comes in tomorrow, Clark. I promise."

"What about part-time daycare?"

He was really pushing tonight. They'd had this discussion several times, each time Diana saying the girls were "too young." Yet they would be a year old in November.

"They need to play with other children. They need to learn how to be with kids other than each other, C.J., and the few children in their swim class. Social skills are important, Diana, you know that. And right now, Catherine and Daphne barely tolerate people who aren't a Kent, El, Prince, or Wayne. Hell, when they haven't seen Hippolyta for more than two months at a time, they won't allow her to touch them unless one of us is in the room. That's not good for anyone."

"I know."

"Do you?"

Yes, she did know.

"I want . . ." Diana shook her head. "I just want to be normal, Clark. Even you know, in some ways, I'm not. I don't mean that I'm strange or odd, but my feelings, my reactions, my temperament aren't what I'd exactly call the female norm. Most days it doesn't bother me. But times like tonight, when I see what my lack of normality does to you, it brings all the baggage I brought into our marriage into frightening focus."

Clark was staring intently at her now, a furrow across his brow.

"I don't even know where to begin with that, Diana. I know the woman I married. I was quite clear who and what you were when I proposed. Normal is subjective and damned relative. You're right, you are neither strange nor odd, but you are irritatingly stubborn and an annoying perfectionist." He reached out and grabbed a tendril of her hair and began to play. "I don't want or expect perfection from you, but I do want a wife who is more happy with having children than she is afraid for her children's safety. And, sweetheart, until you can get a hold of your fear, you're going to suffocate our daughters and put a strain on our young marriage."

She didn't want that. Dammit, Diana didn't want that at all. But the strain was already there, tonight's brief silent treatment testament to that. And the girls were getting older. They would want to spread their wings, meet new people, and have experiences that did not involve their overprotective mother.

"Mrs. Reynolds recommended a few daycare centers. If I have Jones check them out, will you stopping fighting me on this and help me select the best one for our girls?"

Diana nodded - a slow, hard response but the right one, the only option.

"Thank you." Clark sounded relieved, which did nothing for the guilt already riding Diana. He moved to sit with his back to the bed, like her, long legs stretched out before him. "Diana, being a parent isn't easy. We try our best, but that's no guarantee that all our decisions or good intentions will work out or are actually good. We learn. We grow. But we have and love each other, that's the most important thing. Everything else will come in time. And I'll get mad sometimes but I'll always be here when you fall asleep and when you wake up. I'm not going anywhere, wife, no matter how abnormal you think you are."

Her husband had a way with spinning words that sent tears to her eyes and warmth to her heart.

Diana scooted closer, permitting her head to fall to Clark's shoulder. "Tell me about your dreams, honey."

For a minute, Clark said nothing.

She waited. For Clark, she would always wait.

"They began almost two months ago. They started with images of the orphanage where Lara and Jor had left me. Funny, until those dreams, I didn't think I remembered anything during that time. I always thought I was too young to remember. Most people I know don't have memories from when they were five or younger."

That was true. Diana had vague visual memories of her parents and life before Donna came along. But those were just bits and pieces not much more than feelings associated with long ago events of a child Diana didn't truly recall. Yet Diana also knew that a tragic event could push the mind to deliberately not recall the pain, protecting itself. For Clark, Diana wondered if he'd suppressed his year in the orphanage, unable to deal with being abandoned by his parents and being unwanted by prospective foster parents who preferred an outgoing child to take home not an uncommunicative boy who'd withdrawn into himself.

"The dreams were fuzzy at first, but they eventually came into focus. I saw myself watching as my parents drove away. My mother, I could see, through my own tears, was crying. I couldn't see my father's face. But I screamed for him. I begged him to not leave me at the strange place with strange people. I begged and fought to run after their car, but the harder I fought, the tighter the social worker held me and the farther away the car got."

Diana kept silent. Unlike Clark, when her father left his family, she didn't cry or fight or even beg. She did none of those things because she trusted that he would return, too frightening was the truth that it had taken her much longer than Clark to realize that her father had no intention of returning.

So Diana said nothing, listening as her husband spoke of a child's nightmare but a man's well-fought insecurities and fears.

"When the Kents finally took me from that place, I was too stunned to be happy. I kept thinking they would send me back. I thought they would one day get a good look at me and see some flaw that only adults could see. I believed, for the longest time that adults must have special vision. I used to stand naked in front of my mirror, looking for the flaw, the crack, the break. But I never saw it, not even a glimpse, but I knew it had to be there. Because why else would my parents leave me?"

"You don't have to—"

"No, I want to. If I can't tell you, then who else can I tell? Not Jor and Lara, they'd only be hurt and feel guilty."

Whether Clark told them what he remembered or not, Diana couldn't imagine their guilt being any more than it already was. The Els hid it well most days, but it was there in the way they spoke to and looked at Clark. They'd moved half-way around the world to be near their son and his family. Despite the conversations they'd had, explaining to Clark why they'd left him, Diana sensed there was much more her in-laws did not say. She didn't pry, but she did hope that whatever secrets they kept wouldn't one day come back to hurt Clark. In-laws or not, she would abide no one harming her husband.

"Anyway, eventually the dreams began to change."

"Change how?"

"You."

"Me?" She raised her head. "I was in your dreams?"

"Yeah."

She didn't like the way he said that or the sudden concerned way he was watching her.

"Something bad happened to me in your dreams, didn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Do I even want to know what?"

"I never saw what happened, just that someone took you from me. No face. No body. But there was always someone, a malevolent presence that blocked my efforts to save you. And every time I'd awake I was left with the feeling that the power to save you was in my hands if I could only identify the threat, the invisible face of my foe."

His revelation sent a foreboding throbbing to her head.

Clark wrapped his hands around her now cold ones. "I know the face, Diana, the threat. It's here in our home, and we've put an end to it tonight."

With an arched brow, she asked, "You mean Lor and his dangerous Krypton plan?" Although, something did need to be done about Krypton, innocent people were dying over there and that fact did not sit well with Diana.

"Exactly. As soon as I heard his name, I knew he was the invisible enemy from my dreams. Then when I listened to what he wanted you to do, to put your life on the line for his countrymen, it confirmed all my suspicions."

Diana wasn't so sure about that. Lor was a man driven by more than patriotism. He was prideful and egotistical, even manipulative, and an opportunist, but he didn't strike her as an evil man. She'd met her share of evil men and Lor struck her more as a man on a personal mission who would do anything to achieve his ends. That kind of drive Diana understood, for not too long ago she was willing to do almost anything to have her revenge and justice be damned.

"I told you I didn't like the man. Kara is a fool for having accepted his marriage proposal. I hope she changes her mind but, after the stunt she pulled today, I don't hold out much hope of that happening."

"What stunt?"

"Never mind, just know that we diverted the threat. They're here for a few more days then they'll return to L.A. I'll be glad to see the back of Lor Ui. I told Kara that he'll no longer be welcomed in our home. I assumed you wouldn't mind."

She didn't. If Clark didn't like the man, far be it for her to talk him out of his firmly held belief. While she didn't totally agree with Clark's perspective, Diana couldn't fault her husband his reasoning. Dreams were powerful messages. The problem was that people rarely interpreted them correctly.

"Ready for bed?"

"I am, but I need to shower first."

They stood.

"But I wouldn't say no if you wanted to join me."

Smiling, Diana whipped off her nightgown. "Race you to the bathroom." Tossing the silk garment over Clark's face, she ran, creating her own head start.

"You little cheat," he growled low, the way he did when he didn't want to chance waking the girls. "I'll show you who's boss when I get in there, just as soon as I ditch these sweaty boxers."

* * *

**Part 2**

**Metropolis, El Residence**

"Are they still out there?" Lara asked.

Jor moved away from the upstairs window, his face showing agitation and worry.

"Yes, and they aren't even trying to go unnoticed. They want us to see them, to know they are here and watching us."

"We knew this day would eventually come."

Jor sat on the bed beside Lara, a handgun held tightly in his right hand. She hated guns, hated what they did to the human body, the way they destroyed, even without always killing. But at least people knew what to expect when someone pulled a gun on them. They understood the threat for what it truly was. Yet there were other, more discreet, less bloody ways to kill. She and Jor knew far too much about those other methods of death.

"I know, but I foolishly prayed that Rao, for once, would spare the El family."

She did as well. Suddenly, she was overcome with gladness, feeling blessed for having had a few happy years with Clark. She hoped, if the worse happened, he would remember them always, with fondness and love.

"He wants his revenge, Jor, and he will have it one way or another."

Jor's grip on the pistol tightened, and Lara knew her husband would see the men outside dead first before he permitted them to hurt either one of them.

"We need to talk to Clark and Kara. Kara needs to know the truth about the man she calls her fiancée and Clark is deserving of the whole story."

"Yes, I know. He'll hate us," Lor said, giving voice to a long-standing fear.

He most likely would. But their son's safety, just as before, was more important than Lara and Jor's happiness, their lives.

"Kara and Lor leave in three days, we'll speak to Kara and Clark before then."

Jor returned to the window, loaded gun still in hand. He peeked out. "They're gone. For now."

_But they'll be back._ Without a doubt, Lara knew they would be back.

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	6. Chapter 6: Dragon's Treasure

**Chapter 6: Dragon's Treasure**

**Metropolis, Kent Residence**

Clark's heartbeat raced. The thudding pulse robbed him of breath, precious seconds ticking by in a staccato beat of gasps and gunfire. He had to move faster.

_Faster. _

_Faster. _

Time mocked him, a grating chortle of crushed dreams and shattered futures.

_Faster._

_Faster._

He ran.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

_Faster._

_Faster._

He prayed.

Tock. Tock. Tock.

_Faster._

_Faster._

He roared.

_Not enough time. Need more time, dammit._

_Faster._

_Faster._

So close, yes, so close, the end in sight. His destiny, his goal stood yards ahead of him. _Beautiful. _Yes, beauty personified, yet so very pale, so very still, so very close . . . to death.

_Faster._

_Faster._

He bolted, eating away at inches and feet to get to her, pummeling fear and exhaustion, attacking darkness, despair and the truth.

_The truth? _

No, Clark knew only one truth, accepted only one reality, could bear only one conclusion.

_Faster._

_Faster._

Reaching, stretching, arm, hand, fingers, just there, just there and he'd have her.

_I'll save you. I promise._

Fingers lunged and caught flesh - an arm, solid and cold.

She fell. Crumpled to the frozen tundra under Clark's feet, her eyes a desolate blue that held neither accusation nor regret but roiling, crashing waves of determination and resignation.

Clark's heart slowed to a newborn crawl, stuttering, stopping and then completely falling, failing him as he'd failed her.

_Diana._

A whispered name. A husband's plea.

_Diana._

A wish. An apology.

_Diana, don't go. Don't leave me. I need you._

A broken appeal.

Darkness swarmed in, a laughing, faceless, vile wraith. It settled its nasty tentacles around the fallen sleeping beauty, lifted and began to carry her away.

Clark bellowed, awakening the dragon within. Dragon fire churned in the pit of his stomach, a twisting, twirling tornado unleashed and driven from its home, its golden den of riches and treasures. But she, the one caught by the darkness, a pendulum that swung between life and death, was the dragon's one true treasure. A priceless jewel that had no rival in the dragon's heart.

Eyes heated, locked on the morbid tentacles that threatened his love, his soul. Turning blood, vengeful red on the creature, flares of angry light blasted from Clark's eyes. The beams of fury hit its target. The darkness roared, revealing rows of sharp, pointy teeth and malignant cravings.

More tentacles came, replacing the ones Clark destroyed with his beams of fire. For every one, three took its place, thicker, stronger, uglier.

_I'll save you._

Tentacles and darkness closed in, surrounding Diana, claiming her despite Clark's dragon fire and relentless attacks. Slowly, Diana began to disappear, merging with the darkness.

Unwilling to accept this cruel version of destiny, Clark ran, jumped, and landed on the beast's head, attacking with the might of a thousand celestial stars. Still, not enough, more of Diana slipped away.

The beast laughed, dislodging Clark from its massive body, an inconsequential gnat dropped to the cold, hard ground of defeat.

Getting to his feet and readying for another assault, Clark's eyes met that of the woman he loved, her head the only part of her not yet consumed by the beast. She spoke to him then, mouthing words he knew were meant to lessen his pain. "Don't look, Clark."

In mute disbelief, he watched as the beast stole the dragon's most precious treasure.

Clark woke, breathless and scared to death. Heart pounding, mouth dry, he struggled in the sheets wrapped around waist and legs until he faced a peacefully sleeping Diana. Seeing her next to him, safe and unharmed, Clark could almost convince himself the nightmare had meant nothing. But Clark Kent had never been a very good liar or into self-delusions.

Unable to stop himself, Clark leaned close to his wife, his cheek pressed almost to her mouth and nose. He felt it, the wispy emissions of breath, of life. Turning, Clark's lips grazed Diana's. He didn't want to wake her, didn't want to disturb her rest, but the pull, the need to touch and protect proved too strong to ignore.

Gathering his wife in his arms, Clark held her close while she slept. Her hair tickled his nose each time he lowered his head and breathed in her cherry blossom fragrance – light, airy, exotic.

Sleeping had lost all its appeal, so Clark stayed awake, ever vigilant, keeping his treasure exactly where she belonged. _With me._

With the blare of the alarm clock, Clark felt Diana stir. Reluctantly, he released her as she yawned and stretched her way into full wakefulness, hitting the Off button on her alarm before turning back to him. When she did, a radiant smile greeted him, followed by Diana's sweet, lilting voice. "Good morning."

"Good morning, sweetheart."

She stretched again, her white, silk nightgown pulling tight over full, plump breasts. And all Clark's thoughts of darkness and death melted at the feet of morning lust and tempting woman.

With a single, haughty snort, Clark realized he'd been caught staring longingly at nipples in need of tasting.

"Good lord, Clark, it's five a.m. and you're already thinking of sex."

Didn't Diana know him better than that by now? Five in the morning or not, when it came to his wife, sex was never too far from Clark's mind.

"I want you." A stabbing admission that held a desperation she wouldn't understand. Yet something in her eyes, the way they sharpened, brightened, and stared at him left Clark feeling vulnerable and exposed.

"What's wrong?"

Diana always saw him, even when Clark thought she didn't. _No hiding from Diana, she won't allow it._

"Bad dream."

Diana nodded. She understood. Of course she would, because Diana Kent once suffered from nightmares that would've paralyzed a weaker person. And, unlike Clark's nightmares that were foreboding, Diana's had been all too real. _Of losing a husband and unborn baby. _Yes, Diana knew nightmares.

"Same as before?"

Worst, but Clark wouldn't tell her that. "I think once Lor and Kara leave tomorrow, things will go back to normal."

The way she perused his face gave Clark the distinct feeling of being evaluated and considered the way Diana did her stock options.

"You haven't had nearly enough sleep lately, Clark. I'm worried about you."

"Don't be." He waved away her concern, knowing it to be misplaced. "I'll be fine. But," he said, running a hand from Diana's wrist to shoulder, "if you're worried about me, you can stay home today and make sure I get plenty of bed rest."

She laughed, low and sultry, a sensual sound that had Clark sliding his hand from her shoulder and to a breast, rubbing the nipple he found and turning Diana's laughter into an approving moan. "I need you. Stay with me, don't go into work today."

Teasing the nipple harder, Clark watched Diana close her eyes, a pleased weakening he knew well. Falling onto her back, Clark took that as a sign of consent and agreement.

He removed her nightgown and his boxers then covered her body with his.

They kissed, slow and long. Arms twined around his neck, playing with the hair at his nape and the muscles bulging in his shoulders. The kiss deepened, Clark unable to go deep enough to quiet the screaming warning his waking self couldn't stop hearing, stop feeling.

"Don't go, Diana." Voice cracked; the tremors pronounced and impossible to swallow.

"I won't stay late tonight. I promise. But I must go to Wayne Industries today. There are meetings I can't possibly reschedule."

"But—"

Her tongue in his mouth silenced Clark's objection, and down the rabbit hole he went. He wanted to beg her to stay home, to guilt her, if necessary, to put off work for just this one Friday. Maybe if he explained his dream, the fear, irrational as it may be, that gripped Clark in powerful talons, cutting into flesh and logic. But the words melted in the boiling cauldron of fire his stomach had become.

"Besides," she said, breaking the heated kiss, "you can't stay in bed all day. Remember, Jor asked to speak with you and Kara today. I think he hopes to talk her out of marrying Lor."

Clark shifted a bit to the side, taking some of his weight off Diana.

"I hope Jor can find the words that I couldn't." Yesterday, Clark had tried to dissuade his cousin from marrying Lor Ui. Yet nothing he said had penetrated Kara's stubborn devotion to her fiancée. She actually loved the man, which made Clark want to punch the Kryptonian in his smug face.

Diana nibbled his jaw. "Don't get your hopes up too high. Unless Jor knows something we don't, I can't see Kara dissolving her relationship simply because her uncle and cousin disapprove of her choice of a husband. She won't be bullied, Clark."

She was right. But . . . "I think Jor does know something. You know him, Diana, my father is a calm, rational man who permits little to bother him, but he disliked Lor instantly. That has to mean something."

And Clark doubted Jor El was having nightmares like Clark. Surely, his reason for disliking Lor had to based upon something more solid than ominous doomsday nightmares.

A tongue tickled his neck; followed by butterfly kisses, reminding Clark that he lay naked on his equally nude wife, warm body inviting so much more than kisses.

He looked down at her, the screaming beginning to ebb as his desire rose. Yet the desperation remained, so too did the gnawing feeling that the threat Clark thought he had averted by refusing to aid Lor was but the tip of an iceberg, the bulk of which was unseen and below the surface, protected by dark depths and icy dangers.

Clark lifted Diana until she lay on top, her legs straddling his waist. Moving under her, Clark slid down the bed until her knees were on each side of his head, his eyes on the part of his wife he most wanted to taste, to claim, to shower with unrepentant attention.

So he did, swiping his tongue up-and-down, in-and-out.

Diana's musical moans drowned out the remaining embers of warning screams, coating Clark's ears with satisfied purrs and words of love and promises of reciprocation.

Mouth kissed, lips sucked, tongue licked, and hands held lightly to rotating hips. _Mmm_, Diana was fully awake now, swiveling her sex against his tongue, his mouth, creating a slow, fast, fast rhythm that had him licking quicker, sucking harder, just to hear her pleasured gasps, feel her quivering thighs around him.

Clark knew before the scream left her mouth that Diana was coming.

He felt it.

Tasted it.

Worked for it.

Then it was there, a scream that was neither a warning nor frightening, but a leap into a sensual abyss more rejuvenating than the rays of the sun. And when Clark came over Diana, seating himself deep within, he joined her, reveling in the sensation of being so close, so connected to his soul mate that he could almost—_almost_—ignore the snarl of his inner dragon, beams of fire prepared to defend all who threatened to steal his treasure.

Two hours later, Clark awoke to the playful sound of "Da Da . . . Da Da," an empty bed, and a brief note that left him cold.

_Clark,_

_I went into the office. Don't forget your meeting. On my way home, I'll pick up C.J. for his weekend visit. I promise to be home before dinner. Rest and don't let Lor get to you. He'll be gone soon and so will your nightmares. BTW, your tongue is sinfully amazing. I am in your debt, Mr. Kent. You may collect tonight._

_Love_

_Diana_

* * *

**Gotham, Wayne Industries**

Billy Batson swiveled in his chair. His three to eleven shift started thirty minutes ago and the boredom of watching monitors had already begun to set in. Billy hated monitor duty. Cooped up in a room full of high tech surveillance monitors didn't exactly scream "fun."

He sighed, spun himself around again then stopped when he heard approaching footsteps. The knob turned, the door opened, and the Head of Wayne Security walked in.

Billy got to his feet, hiding all traces of disinterest in tonight's assignment.

Manny smiled, a good-natured greeting that belied how seriously the older man took his job. After Dr. Kent had fired Steve Trevor, who, Billy always thought had a bit of a crush on the boss lady, she'd promoted Manuel Branco to the post. The promotion surprised none of the Wayne security guards. Besides being damn good at his job, Manny displayed the type of intelligence and loyalty Dr. Kent valued and rewarded.

Wayne Industries had become Billy's home, the other security guards his family. And Dr. Kent had his upmost respect. The CEO had hired him personally, sitting in on his panel interview as if his position was just as important as one of her lawyers, researchers, or division chiefs. She'd told him, "At Wayne Industries there are no small jobs. Everyone is important; we all count. Your job, Mr. Batson, is the most critical of all. Safety is first."

Just like that, she'd hired him. Her decision final, uncaring that Billy held no more than a GED, had no family worth speaking of, or solid ties to Gotham. She'd laid a golden opportunity before Billy after asking him a single interview question: "What does duty and service mean to you?"

He'd thought it an odd question, but reflected deeply on his response before answering. The words that had spilled from Billy had shocked him. But they'd been the truth and, apparently, enough to earn him a covetous security job with great benefits and even better pay.

Manny pointed to the row of monitors behind Billy. "It's going to be a quiet Friday night. Dr. Kent sent out a memo this morning giving staff a two hour early leave."

She did that once a month, a morale boosting strategy Billy could respect. It didn't impact the guards but Dr. Kent had other methods of showing her appreciation for her Unit V employees, such as extended lunch days, flexible work hours, and holiday bonuses.

"What about Mr. Stone?" Unless his girlfriend, Donna Prince, was in town, Victor Stone could be found in his research lab well after midnight on most days.

"Mr. West was here earlier in a meeting with Dr. Kent. After that, I saw West pulling Stone out of his office and saying something about getting 'Cyborg' drunk."

Billy smiled. When Stone barricaded himself in his lab, obsessed with some level of technology Billy would probably never understand, his personality did put one in the mind of a robot, his cybernetic inventions making millions for Wayne Industries.

"So, like I said. It should be a quiet night."

"What about the boss lady?"

Manny raised his arm, looking at the watch on his wrist. And really, who in the hell still wore wristwatches, nowadays? As far as Billy was concerned, Seiko should be out of business.

"Dr. Kent said she'd be heading out by four. It's nearly that now. I have to check in with the floor guards." Manny gestured to the monitors again. "Make sure she gets to her car safely. She's parked in her reserved spot."

"I'll take care of it, Manny, no worries."

But Manny did appear worried, which made no sense to Billy. Ever since the Justice League had run Lex Luthor out of town and Bruce Wayne's killers had been arrested, tried, and now sat on death row, Gotham was a much quieter, safer city. Dr. Kent, who a Wayne guard used to escort everywhere, no longer relied so much on their protective services. While it made for boring days, it was far better to see the boss lady happy and safe than anxious and weary.

"Mr. Kent called me four times today, asked me to keep a special eye out on his wife. I haven't heard him sound that concerned for her safety since the night we set the trap for the Joker and Bane."

Billy had heard the rumors, but Manny and Sam, who was also at the Adirondack cabin that night, hadn't divulged all the details. But it was there, in the way they looked at and spoke about Diana Kent, a respect that went deeper than her being a fair and skilled businesswoman. Billy had no idea what the woman had done to earn such deeply sincere admiration from Manny and Sam, but he thought it had something to do with her reputed martial art skills and slow to burn temper.

"Kent's not as mild-mannered as he comes off," Manny said, telling Billy something he actually did find hard to believe. Clark Kent, the poster child for nice guys, may have been built like a Mack truck on steroids, but the writer was no Mike Tyson. He had no bite. "Just make sure Dr. Kent gets to her car safely. If anything happens to her . . . just make sure it doesn't, Batson."

Talk about paranoid, Billy thought after Manny left the monitor room. No one would dare do anything to the CEO of Wayne Industries, not unless the person wanted to evoke the wrath of her Furies and bring the weight of the Justice League down on their stupid heads. It would have to take someone with more balls than brains to fuck with Diana Kent and risk the firestorm such a foolish move would create.

Billy sat back in his chair, dutifully watching the monitors. Five minutes later, the camera outside Dr. Kent's office suite showed her leaving for the day. Leather briefcase in one hand, car keys in the other, she closed her office door and began her trek to the bank of elevators.

He tracked her every move, cameras strategically placed for invisibility and safety. Once on the elevator, she raised her head to the camera, smiled, and waved at him. Stupidly, Billy waved back, as if she could see him as he could see her.

Diana Kent had what Shayera Hol called the "stupid effect" on men. Billy Batson was not immune. He did, however, push a button and spoke into a microphone. "Have a good evening, Dr. Kent. I'll watch you to your car."

She nodded and mouthed her thanks.

Just as the doors to the elevator opened on garage level one, Billy's cell phone rang. Digging it out his shirt pocket, he answered.

"Batson."

"Hello, tall, dark, and sexy."

Billy's grin was immediate, as was the throbbing in his pants. Damn but Lois had that smoldering voice down to a knee weakening, dick hardening science.

"What's up?"

"Hopefully you will be when you get here."

"Aren't I always?" Enjoying the game, Billy began to swivel in his chair again, too anxious for this evening's dessert, knowing it was hours away. He swiveled again, his back to the monitors, his face to the door, his mind on the hot woman on the other end of the line.

"Fortunately for me, you are. So what time do you get off of work?"

She knew, but what she really wanted to know was how long it would take him to drive from Gotham to her home in Metropolis. This was their game, and they'd been playing it for the better part of six months.

"I remembered to bring my duffel bag with me this time, so I don't have to go home first. My shift ends at eleven. If I break a few speeding laws, I can be at your door by twelve and in your sweet heat by twelve three."

Billy could've sworn Lois moaned. The thought made him even harder. Lois Lane, so insatiable and hot as hell that Billy cared nothing for the age difference. He knew it bothered her, which explained why she kept their relationship a secret. Yet some nights, after they made love and he held her, Billy sensed there was more to the secrecy than Lois' fears of being labeled a "cougar" or "cradle robber."

Maybe then he shouldn't tell her that the boss lady knew about them. Before Billy knew his relationship with Lois was to be kept a secret, he'd told Dr. Kent. To him, it was no big deal. Dr. Kent had asked him one Monday morning about his weekend and he'd said he'd spent it with Lois. He'd gone into a few more details and she seemed interested, if not surprised by the pairing, but nothing more. She hadn't asked probing questions and they'd never spoken about it again.

"C.J. will be with Clark's family this weekend, so we can hit a couple of Metropolis's hot spots, if you like."

The fact that Lois hadn't introduced Billy to her son should've been his first clue, as did visits to her home that corresponded to the times her ex had their son. Women like Lois Lane didn't fall for men like Billy Batson, no matter how big and sexy he knew himself to be. _Just enjoy it while it lasts, Billy, then move on when it's over like a good boy toy._

"Sounds good, baby. Look, I'm on monitor duty, so I'll call you when I'm on my way."

Billy was about to say his goodbye when Lois began talking about her trip to Victoria's Secret and her purchases. By the time she'd finished, ten minutes had slipped by and Billy's pants were uncomfortably tight. Swiveling and sitting were out of the question.

Rising, Billy turned back to the monitors, eyes zeroing in on Dr. Kent's parking spot. Her Mercedes hadn't moved. He glanced at the next monitor, the one hooked into the camera that overlooked the back of Dr. Kent's parking spot. She wasn't there either.

_Maybe she forgot something and went back to her office._

But Billy didn't know for sure. He waited another five minutes, watching the monitors that showed the outside of her office suite. The door was closed just as it had been when Billy watched her exit nearly twenty minutes earlier. _Her door is normally closed, which doesn't necessarily mean she's not in there._

Billy didn't buy his own rationalization. Worried, he grabbed his walkie-talkie. "Batson to Branco."

Silence then, "Branco, go ahead Batson."

"Did you see Dr. Kent return to her office?"

"No, but I'm on the fifth floor; I wouldn't have seen her."

_Shit._ "Well, umm, her car is still in the parking garage, and I'm not sure if she caught the elevator back up."

A long pause followed Billy's confession then a string of Spanish curses. Feet pounded and Billy knew Manny had taken off. The big man could run.

"Stay on the monitors. Let me know what you see. I'm going to her office."

Billy wanted to race there himself, but someone had to watch the monitors for activity. _Like you should've been doing all along._

Three minutes later, an angry and out of breath Manny was back on the line. "She's not here. Emergency lock down. I want this entire building shut the hell down _now_!"

Billy slammed his hand over the red emergency button. Alarms blared, lights flared, and Billy was fucked.

* * *

**Metropolis, El Residence**

The Els were a fierce, stubborn lot, and Kara Zor-El, for the last hour, had lived up to both family traits.

"I understand your concern, Uncle Jor but—"

"If you understood my concern, you would take that engagement ring off your finger and throw it into the nearest sewer."

Blue eyes narrowed, reminding Jor of his long dead brother who used to squint just like Kara when Jor had done or said something to annoy him.

Kara cast her eyes around the living room, finding Lara who sat beside Clark on the couch. But his niece would find no ally there.

"Aunt Lara, surely you must—"

"Jor is right. Lor is not the man for you. He's not at all who you think him to be." Lara stood, graceful and still quite lovely, the strands of gray in her hair making her doubly so. "Your uncle doesn't wish to bring you pain, my dear, only to prevent you from making a terrible mistake."

Clearly frustrated, Kara looked as if she would scream. "But none of you know him. How can the three of you think you know my fiancée better than I do? It makes no sense, and you've given me no reason to believe you over him."

Kara was right. Lara and Jor had yet to share the true reason for their distrust of Jor Ui, which, Jor knew, wasn't the man's real surname. _His mother's name_. They had agreed to tell both Kara and Clark the truth, the reason for the El family meeting. The time had come. They could put if off no longer.

"Please sit, honey, and listen to what your uncle has to say."

With a pout that brought images of a two-year old Kara to his mind, Jor almost smiled at the way his grown niece plopped next to Clark on the couch, her face set in absolute defiance. She was indeed her father's daughter, and Jor loved her with all his heart. He wouldn't allow the son of Krypton's worst enemy to have her. Jor could at least do that for his deceased brother and wife.

Standing next to him, Lara's presence bolstered his nerve. Clark, who'd been quiet and distracted the entirety of his visit, looked up at them, eyes questioning but not completely focused on what was going on. Uncharacteristic of Clark, Jor wondered what troubled his son.

"It would please and humble me, Kara, to walk you down the aisle and turn your safety and protection over to a man worthy of you. Unfortunately, Lor is not that man." Jor raised his hand, stalling Kara. "Hear me out before you bring the full weight of your affronted wrath down on me and your aunt. We only want what is best for you."

"And Lor is not what's best for you, honey. I know he's handsome and charming, but so was his father."

"His father?" Kara's eyes widened and she sat up straight. "You know Lor's father? How?"

"Everyone knows his father, Kara, even you," Jor said, seeing, finally, he had Clark's undivided attention.

Kara shook her head. "No, Uncle, you're wrong. I haven't met Lor's parents. He never talks about them. I assumed they were dead or estranged."

Jor wished. _They should be dead. Traitorous bastards._

Lara's smooth, motherly voice continued where Jor had left off. "No, they are very much alive and living in Krypton. They cannot be trusted, and they will never accept an El as a daughter-in-law."

"Why not?" Clark leapt in, showing life after an hour of self-imposed muteness. "Unlike Lor, there's nothing wrong with Kara."

"Thanks, cousin, you managed to insult and compliment me in a single sentence."

"You know what I mean. You're all beauty and brains. You have no children, no ex, and no debts because Hippolyta pays you like a gazillion dollars as her General Manager. You're not going to tell me Lor doesn't know how much you're worth. Your assets are obvious. He brings nothing to the table but impassioned speeches and suave manipulation."

Kara harrumphed and crossed her arms over her chest. "You did it again, but with far more sentences this time, Clark. Perhaps you should just shut up and let your parents do the talking."

"I'm just trying to help."

"Well, don't. You—"

"As we were saying," Jor interrupted, unwilling to listen a moment longer to the feuding cousins, "Lor is a fraud. He has misrepresented himself to you and to us. I won't go as far as to claim that he's using you, Kara, or that he doesn't love you. You are quite lovable and any man would be happy to have you as his wife. So, please don't misunderstand my words, my intention."

"How has Lor misrepresented himself? By not telling me his parents were alive and living in Krypton? That's not a big deal, uncle. Many people don't get along with their parents. That doesn't make him unworthy of me or untrustworthy. I'm sure there is plenty Clark and I don't know about your time in Krypton before and after Krypton's independence."

Yet again, Kara's words were too true.

"That's also why we called you both here," Lara said. "We may be a small El family, but there is much to tell, much to be discussed, and it all goes back to Lor's family."

Kara's defenses seemed to wane under Lara's serious tone. Leaning against the cushions but not remotely relaxed, Kara said, "I'm listening. Tell me about Lor's family. I want to know everything."

"So do I," Clark agreed. "But first, let me take this call."

Standing, Clark reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his cell. The protective phone cover had been a gift from Diana - a glossy picture of Catherine, Daphne, and Diana. With Clark's hand covering the photo, Jor couldn't now see it, but he'd seen the cover many times, Clark proudly showing off the picture every time he visited. His son was happy, which was all Jor and Lara had every desired for their only child.

Now, however, Jor watched as Clark's face drained of all color. The phone dropped from his hand and Jor wasn't entirely sure Clark wouldn't follow.

"I have to get to Wayne Industries."

Clark was already grabbing his coat and keys, movements hurried, face taut, eyes an indescribable shade of frantic blue.

Jor felt his own coat suddenly pushed in his arms, Lara's worried voice in his ear. "Go with him. Whatever it is, Clark shouldn't be alone in his state."

Then Jor was running, barely making it to Clark's truck before his son peeled away from the house, three earth-shattering words on Clark's lips: "Diana is missing."

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	7. Chapter 7: Missing

**Chapter 7: Missing**

**Gotham City**

The minute his Justice League issued cell phone vibrated, the buzz a low hum in his pants pocket, Detective Richard Grayson knew whatever romantic dinner plans he'd been entertaining, with his wife Barbara, would have to wait. No one ever called his JL phone with good news, Dick thought, tugging the cell from his black, dress slacks. His role on the League was of a single nature. Bad things happened, a crime was committed, Detective Grayson of the Gotham City Police Department was called. A simple cause and effect that often left Dick feeling cold and tired.

With the unpleasantness of the yet-to-be-determined crisis in need of his attention, Dick pressed the phone to his ear. "Grayson here."

"Detective Grayson, this is Manny Branco. We have an issue at Wayne Industries. How fast can you get here?"

Dick glanced up at the red light, then at the cross streets. Half way between home and the station but clear on the other side of town, and in the opposite direction of the upscale business sector where Wayne Industries was located, Dick snapped on his siren. The blue-and-red began to wail, signaling for the cars blocking the right he needed to make to get the hell out of his way.

Dick heard urgency in Branco's voice, unusual, he knew, for Diana's calmly, competent Chief of Wayne Security. Little rattled the big man; yet something obviously had. And that something alarmed Dick.

"Once these damn cars get the hell out of my way, I can be there in fifteen." Beeping at a couple of jerks, a woman in a minivan and a twenty-something on a motorcycle, who obviously didn't get that blaring sirens and flashing cop lights meant to get the fuck outta the way, refused to move their stubborn asses so Dick could swing past them and make his right on Arkham Boulevard.

Endless beeps and a few choice words and hand gestures to the two asshole drivers who'd finally went through the now green light, Dick accelerated around the corner. Darting through traffic and barely slowing at intersections, Dick put Branco on speakerphone, listening as the man said the unthinkable. "Dr. Wayne is missing."

Dick nearly slammed into the back of a four-door sedan, but swerved just in time to prevent the collision. Breathing deeply, heart pounding, eyes alert and hands gripping the steering wheel, Dick swore at his sudden anxiety and anger.

He'd heard Branco, knew precisely what the man had just said. Yet the sense of unreal came over him. Surely, Diana Kent could not be missing. Perhaps she had a meeting no one knew about. Maybe her cell battery had died or she was out of communication range.

Perhaps.

Maybe.

All bullshit. Lame, improbable reasons Dick was far too smart and experienced to believe. But the alternative to disbelief and excuses was the acceptance that Diana had been forcibly taken. And Dick damn well knew that Diana Kent wouldn't willingly go somewhere she didn't want to be.

Laying his heavy, right foot on the gas, Dick flew through Gotham's streets.

"How long has she been gone?"

"I'm not positive, but I think about an hour."

"Have the guards done a building and perimeter search?"

"Yes, that's how I know she's not in the building."

"Look, detective, we can go over all of this when you arrive. Just get your ass here as soon as you can."

Slowing just enough to make a left on Peabody Way, the wheel's on Dick's car skidded but he held fast, controlling the vehicle.

"I'm nearly to you. I'll meet you at the front of the building, and whatever you do don't contact anyone else in the League, especially Clark." The silence that met his words had Dick swearing, foul and loud. "You didn't?"

"He's her husband. Mr. Kent had a right to know."

"He's her husband, which is why Clark's the last person who needs to know until we have solid news to tell him."

"Well, he's on his way. He'll probably be here in seventy minutes, give or take. So I suggest you break the sound barrier and get your ass here so you can find that solid news for him."

Branco hung up and Dick proceeded to use language his wife would not appreciate, but which was wholly appropriate for the situation.

No way did Dick want to have the conversation he knew he would have to have with Clark. As a detective, he'd done it before, told a spouse or parent that their loved one was hurt, dead, or missing. Over the years, he'd even come up with a script or two to help him get through and to dull the pain of bringing unimaginable heartache to strangers. Yet Clark Kent was no stranger. _He's my friend. How can I look my friend in the eye and tell him I don't know where his wife is?_

And, for the time being, that would be Dick's report. He trusted Branco and his guards. If they scoured Wayne Industries and found no trace of Diana, Dick didn't doubt the famed CEO was not in the building. He would call Commissioner Gordon, of course, fill him in and request the aid of several trusted and discreet officers, but Dick knew a second search would reveal the same as the first.

Coming to a screeching stop in front of Wayne Industries, Dick jumped out of his car. Feet and legs propelled by adrenaline and dwindling time had him vaulting up the wide steps.

Before he reached the glass doors, Branco already had one open for him. Dick pounded inside, seeing a good ten Wayne guards in the foyer. All big, all armed, all looking as if they could and would kill if given the nod. And Diana had personally hired each one. No wonder the seven men and three women stood like leashed Pit Bulls, awaiting the killing order.

_Well hell, maybe GCPD officers won't be needed after all._

Without the legal limitations of a government badge holding them back, the guards would be able to move freely, doing all that would be necessary to find Diana.

Despite his own badge, the men and women before Dick did not work for or take orders from him, and neither did he know any of them. Well, except for the one in the back. The dark haired guy looking as if he'd rather be anywhere but here was one guard he had met. _Billy Batson. Yeah, that's the guy's name._

"Okay, Branco, tell me everything."

He did, beginning with two dead guards found in the garage. Shit. With two bodies, no way could Dick not call this in.

"Susan Loren and Mitchell Gregor were assigned to Garage Level One tonight. When Batson realized Dr. Kent's car was still in the garage and I couldn't find her in her office, I shut the building down and we began looking for her and any intruders."

"Instead," Dick said, following Branco and Batson onto an elevator, "you discovered two dead guards and no Diana."

A grim nod from Branco. "The guards' throats were slit, from ear-to-ear."

"Deadly but silent," mumbled Batson. "Pros, if you ask me."

No one had asked the kid, but an astute observation was always appreciated in Dick's line of work. Every case was about theories, solutions, and evidence, no room for egos and pissing contests.

The elevator dinged at the fifteenth floor and Dick followed the guards off. They walked down a brightly lit hall, stopping at a closed door with a sign to the right of the wooden frame that read simply: _Security._

In they went. Monitors decorated the back wall, showing various places in the building, cycling through the floors and hallways, giving a guard a perfect vantage point from which to spot unwanted activity in the building.

_Then how in the world was Diana taken without the guard on duty noticing?_

That damn good question would have to wait a minute longer. "Just a sec, guys. I need to call Commissioner Gordon and bring him up to speed. He'll have my ass if I don't. Diana and Gordon go way back, and he'd like to know that something has happened to her."

His father-in-law would probably come down there personally to oversee the investigation. Not the action of a typical commissioner but Gordon was far from that and Diana Kent was no ordinary kidnap victim. People as powerful and rich as Diana weren't just snatched without serious ramifications. The little army of Wayne guards downstairs told the truth of things, which was why, for right now, Dick would do his best to keep the news of the kidnapping contained.

Ten minutes and a grueling interrogation, by Gordon, later, Dick ended the call and refocused on the monitors. He found several feeding from the cameras in the garage. He stepped closer, examining the angle of each, noting two cameras, one in the front the other in the back that showed Diana's luxury vehicle. Like Branco said, still parked in her reserved spot.

Standing to his full height, Dick lifted his eyes to Branco. "Tell me, Manny, which of Wayne's soon-to-be-unemployed guards fucked up?"

The man didn't flinch at Dick's coarse but apt words. But the young man behind Branco did. _Ah, I should have known - the silent and incompetent type._

But Diana didn't hire incompetent people, he reminded himself.

"Spill, Batson, and don't even think of leaving anything out."

Branco's eyes also narrowed on the young man, his brown-eyed glare telling Dick that he'd already gotten the story out of Batson and hadn't liked what the guard had revealed.

By the end of the story, Dick realized two things. One, Billy Batson was as young and stupid as a bag of rocks. Two, Clark must never know.

Shaking his head, Dick could do nothing but stare at Batson. Guilt and shame hovered about the young man, his wide shoulders not nearly broad enough to hold the weight of what his dick and lust had allowed to happen.

If beating the crap out of the large man would help, Dick's knuckles would be bruised and bloody, so strong was the urge to slap the kid around for not doing his goddamn job. How hard was it to watch one woman to her car and make sure she got in safely? A freakin' trained monkey could've done the job.

Maybe Dick could forgive ineptitude, but he couldn't countenance outright dereliction of duty.

He turned away from the pale-faced Batson, no longer interested in a thing he had to say or his endless string of, "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

None of that, no matter how genuine, would bring Diana home to her husband and kids. And, hell, Dick didn't even want to think about the twins and what it would mean to them if their mother never returned.

Tossing aside that dark, depressing thought, Dick said, "Manny, how about you show me the footage now. Have you watched it yet?"

"No time. But I knew you would want to see it when you got here. It's all ready. Just push" —Branco pointed to the single white monitor among a sea of silver-and-black— "that button there."

Hating it but knowing he had no choice, Dick pushed the circular button. With the men flanking him, Dick watched the footage of Diana's —dammit— kidnapping. It was all there, in black-and-white.

The horror scene unfolded, bit-by-bit, still-by-still, punch-by-punch. When the four men had finally managed to subdue Diana and throw her into a waiting dark blue van, no license plates, Dick noticed, the detective could've unremorsefully shot Billy Batson, his hormones, and the men who'd attacked an unarmed woman.

But unarmed did not make Diana Kent defenseless or easy prey.

"I-I can't believe." Awestruck and apparently speechless, Batson stared, open-mouthed at the monitor. Nothing was playing now. All the drama was over. Except for Diana, who was god knows where with only god knew who, the drama of this evening still playing for her.

"Did you see what she did? I mean, I know you saw, but – _Damn_. The woman is a lethal weapon in heels and Prada."

Yeah, Dick had seen. He'd seen a woman fighting for her life. But more than that, he'd seen a woman who knew she had little chance of stopping the men from taking her.

"Dr. Kent's a smart woman," Branco said. "She situated herself so the cameras were to her back."

"You mean she did that deliberately? I wondered why she shifted positions."

Dick hadn't wondered. He'd known immediately what Diana was up to. If she couldn't prevent her kidnapping, she would at least give him and others as much evidence as possible to catch her kidnappers. That included tricking the men into facing the cameras she knew were there. But it also meant getting DNA evidence as well. That part had Dick's stomach fighting to keep down his lunch.

"She knew what she was about, Billy." Branco's voice held a repressed snarl aimed at Batson. "You're impressed, kid. I hear it in your voice. You're impressed that Dr. Kent had the balls and skill to fight back four men who outweighed her by at least sixty pounds and five inches." The security chief got in the kid's face. "Is that what impresses you, Billy? Seeing a woman fight to near exhaustion, fight to not be taken by men who could only intend her harm?"

To the kid's credit, he didn't back up, back down, or make pointless excuses.

"Shit, it's my fault she had to do all of that. It's my fault Dr. Kent was taken. _It's all my damn fault!_"

A harsh breath sucked in. Instantly, Dick knew it hadn't come from him, Manny, or Batson.

Pivoting to his left, Dick saw a red-faced and furious Clark Kent standing in the open door, arctic blue eyes all for Billy Batson.

* * *

Forty minutes ago, Clark had given up trying to slow his breathing or calm his raging heart. No matter what he did or how hard he tried, Manny Branco's words reverberated in his head. _"Listen, Mr. Kent, we have a problem at Wayne Industries. I don't know how to tell you but Dr. Kent is missing. We can't find your wife. You need to get here right away. I'll call Detective Grayson. I'm sure he'll be here by the time you arrive."_

_Can't find your wife. _

_Can't find your wife. _

_Can't find your wife._

The four words were like sledgehammers in his head – hard, forceful, and relentless.

The entire ride from Metropolis and into Gotham, Clark berated himself.

Blamed himself.

Cursed himself.

How could he have fallen asleep and allowed Diana to go into work? Not after last night's wretched dream, the one that had plagued him for nauseating weeks. After making love, he'd been both sated and exhausted from watching her all night. Unable to keep his eyes open, Clark had slipped into a fitful slumber, awaking after Diana had showered, dressed, and gone. Hell, he couldn't even provide Dick with a description of what Diana wore today. Important information a detective would require when beginning an investigation.

God, the thought of Dick investigating Diana's disappearance had Clark tapping the accelerator going from eighty to a hundred in a sixty-five zone.

"Maybe you should slow down, Clark."

Ignoring his father, whom Clark had forgotten rode beside him; he pushed the pedal down, taking the truck to a hundred and ten.

"Dammit, Clark, you'll do Diana no good if you get into an accident."

Jor was right.

Clark didn't care.

A hundred and twenty.

Jor didn't understand. For weeks, he'd seen his wife's death. He knew something would happen, felt it deep in his core. Irrational, doom and gloom dreams he'd initially dismissed, yet they persisted until they'd haunted his sleeping and waking mind.

"I need to find her."

"We will find her, son. Don't worry."

Don't worry? Yeah, right. At this moment, anything could be happening to Diana, and no one was there to help her, to save her. _That's my job._ Yes it was; the role of a husband. And Clark was so damn tired of crazies using Diana for their personal ends. He didn't know, and, right now, he didn't care about the kidnappers motivations. All he cared about, all Clark ever cared about was Diana - his wife and the mother of his children.

Clark zoomed down the highway, catching a glimpse of the green sign for Exit 23 to Gotham – five miles up the road and to his right. Glancing in his right driver's side mirror, Clark changed lanes.

"Do me a favor, Dad. Call Mom and ask her to take Kara back to my house. Explain about Diana and ask her to have Alfred send the nanny home."

Clark slowed so he could make his exit. Taking the turn faster than he should've, Clark slowed even more then stopped completely when he reached the red light at the end of the exit ramp. Not waiting for the green, Clark looked to his left before making a cautious turn on red, merging into after-work traffic.

Clark thought about Lor and the fact that he'd left the man with his children. Alfred was there, true, but what could the old man do if Lor's intentions turned foul towards the girls. As it was, everything in Clark screamed that Lor Ui was involved in Diana's disappearance.

"Before you call Mom, place a call to John Jones of the Metropolis PD. Have him contact Dick Grayson or Manny Branco. Then ask him to go to my house and detain Lor."

Clark thought his father would argue, protest that Lor had rights the detective couldn't just violate because Clark asked it of him. Instead, Jor said, "Damn good idea. I don't trust that Kryptonian as far as I can throw him."

Clark spared a quick glance at his father, who stared out at the passing scenery. They were entering downtown Gotham, the business district only ten miles north and to the left.

Clark sped up.

"I want to know. Whatever in the hell you've been keeping from me, I want to know."

"I know, but not now. You need to focus on Diana."

Diana was never far from his thoughts, and his runaway heart had yet to still and calm.

"Make the calls." Clark parked behind a car that had been in his driveway a week ago when Dick and Barbara visited. "Meet me inside when you're done."

Without waiting for Jor's reply, Clark's feet matched the thumping of his heart, running out-of-control and wild.

When he reached the revolving glass doors, he smiled with relief when Sam unlocked the doors and let him in.

"Any news?"

No pleasantries. There was no time for any.

"Sorry, not yet, Mr. Kent."

"What can we do?" The question came from a thirty-something, six foot, white female with short brown hair and rimmed lenses. He didn't recognize here.

Clark scanned the lobby. At least ten Wayne security guards were present. Of them, only Sam was familiar.

"Yeah, we're tired of waiting," said a male guard with a buzz cut, weighing at least two hundred pounds – all muscles.

The other guards grumbled similar sentiments, and they were all looking to Clark as if he were their platoon leader. _What the hell?_

If Clark were to find his wife, he would most definitely need an army. And who better than armed men and women who worked for Wayne Industries and who were loyal to Diana Kent?

"Where's Manny and Detective Grayson?" Clark asked Sam.

"The surveillance room on the fifteenth floor. Do you know where it is?"

Actually, Clark did.

"I'm going to go up. While I'm gone," he said to all the guards, "do whatever you need to do to get ready for a search and destroy mission."

Buzz Cut smacked his meaty hands together and licked very white teeth. "Yeah, that's what I'm talkin' about. We're gonna find Dr. Kent and make the assholes who snatched her pay."

That should've bothered Clark. The cheers and calls for blood, the angry mob mentality he'd just unleashed.

It should've.

It didn't.

Nice guy Clark wouldn't be the one to find Diana. Bastards had taken his wife, so he would be the bastard needed to find and bring her safely home.

Onto the elevator he went, leaving the guards to their preparation.

After two wrong turns, Clark approached a room with an open door, familiar voices wafting into the hallway.

He listened.

"She knew what she was about, Billy You're impressed, kid. I hear it in your voice. You're impressed that Dr. Kent had the balls and skill to fight back four men who outweighed her by at least sixty pounds and five inches. Is that what impresses you, Billy? Seeing a woman fight to near exhaustion, fight to not be taken by men who could only intend her harm?"

"Shit, it's my fault she had to do all of that. It's my fault Dr. Kent was taken. _It's all my damn fault!_"

The dragon fire was back, burning Clark's stomach. He gasped, sucking in air where dragon's fire threatened to explode all over Billy Batson.

The three men turned to him, but only one mattered.

Clark stepped into the room, eyes firmly on the young man who'd just admitted he was to blame for Diana being taken. For right now, Clark chose not to dwell on Manny's words about Diana fighting men bigger and stronger than her.

"Tell me, Billy." Harsh. Cold. Furious.

"Look, Clark," Dick began, "let's just—"

Clark skewered Dick with a cutting glare that said, "Back the hell off."

Getting the message, Dick raised his hands, palms up. "Just don't kill the kid, okay?"

"Why would I kill him?" He stalked closer to Billy and stared him down. "What did you do?"

The younger man, as tall and wide as Clark, stumbled over his words, saying something about a phone call, Lois, and lingerie. By the end of the nearly incoherent blathering, Clark had made out enough to get the big picture.

The dragon opened its mouth and thundered, spewing volcanic blasts of fire. Down Billy Batson went, dropping to his knees, adding his own red to Clark's fire.

Then more fire, more blasts, more crimson donations from Billy.

The dragon raged, lifting its menacing wings over and over, flapping, snarling, and attacking.

"Stop, Clark. God dammit."

Two sets of rough hands grabbed Clark, pinning his arms to his back.

Clark struggled.

The vices tightened.

"Dammit Clark, don't make me cuff you. Calm the hell down."

Dick could stick his cuffs . . .

Clark laughed. It was all so pathetic. He'd known Lois was seeing someone. The signs were there. He didn't mention it to her since she seemed to want to keep it a secret. And, honestly, Clark had been relieved his ex-wife had found someone, even if she was keeping the relationship on the down low.

He laughed again. No wonder Lois had kept so quiet. But she needn't have worried about Clark's reaction. As long as whatever man she chose to be with treated C.J. with kindness and care that was all that mattered to Clark.

Clark stopped struggling.

"You think I give a damn about you sleeping with my ex-wife, Billy? Well, I don't. But when playing with Mrs. Robinson puts my wife's life in danger, I won't apologize for my reaction."

Clark twisted in Dick and Manny's grasps. "Get the hell off of me."

"Only if you're done, Clark. Friend or not, I can't have you assaulting people and do nothing."

"I'm done." Not true. Clark was only getting started, but he was done beating the hell out of Billy Batson. Now, he needed to know precisely what happened to his wife. "I'm good, Dick, just let me go. I won't go after Billy."

"You promise?"

"If I do, it'll only be good for tonight. If I can't find my wife or she's hurt when I do, well . . . do I need to say the rest?"

With a frustrated sigh, Dick released him, followed by Manny.

Turning his back on the bleeding and downed Billy, Clark looked at the detective. "We won't have a discussion about police procedure and protocol, Dick. I know what goes on in this room and why you're in here. Show me what I want to see."

"Or you'll punch me, too?"

"If I have to. This isn't about you or even me. You know you would do no different if something awful happened to Barbara. You would move heaven and earth to reach her, to protect her, and fight those who dare stand in your way."

"I know you love your wife, just as much as I love mine. But, Clark, no husband should be forced to watch his wife's kidnapping."

"Not forced, Dick, but need. I'm a big boy. I can handle it."

Without a word, Manny walked around Dick and Clark and to a white monitor. Clark tracked his movement. Several seconds later, finger leaving whatever button he'd pushed, the screen turned on and images appeared.

Clark watched.

He saw his wife, dressed in a black pantsuit, high heels and a white, button-up shirt. Cameras followed her progress from the elevator to her Mercedes. After putting her briefcase in the trunk, she moved to the driver's side door, car keys in hand.

She looked up.

Something had caught her attention. Moving away from her car and the nearest camera, for several seconds, Clark couldn't see her. Then Diana moved, putting her in the path of another camera. In her arms, she held a white-and-black ball of fur.

A kitten. Small. Cute. _The perfect ruse._

Stroking the kitten's fur, Clark knew precisely when Diana had realized men approached while she'd been preoccupied with the cat. It had only been a couple of minutes of distraction, but it had been long enough.

Backing up closer to the car, Diana bent and placed the kitten near one of the car's wheels, away and out of danger.

She stood, looked away from the approaching men and directly into the camera over her shoulder. Her mouth moved and, with a flash of desperation and fear, Clark was back in his nightmare. _"Don't look, Clark,"_ she said.

In his dreams.

To the camera.

_To me._ _She knew I would see this. Knew I'd demand to see what had happened to her. _Like the indomitable, fierce woman she was, in her hour of need, she thought of his pain instead of her own fear.

And Clark loved her all the more for her bravery, as much as his heart was breaking.

The men moved in closer.

Diana removed her heels and gripped her keys between her fingers.

If Clark hadn't known the beautiful, six foot tall mother of twins was his wife, he would've sworn he was viewing a scene from G. I. Jane.

Diana went on the attack, swinging at the nearest man with the hand that held her keys. They swiped cheek, nose and left eye. The man staggered back. She attacked again, cutting his face with another forceful facial and neck attack. Blood spurted, and Clark realized Diana had aimed for and connected with an artery.

The man dropped to his knees, holding his neck.

Another man lunged at Diana. Side stepping him, she kicked out with her stocking feet, connecting with knee. Car keys came again, just when the man's knee buckled and he fell to one knee.

_Slash._

_Slash._

_Slash._

Eye.

Eye.

Throat.

A third man joined the fray, running in from Diana's blindside. Grabbing her from behind, he lifted her off her feet, pinning her arms to her side and her back against his front.

Clark's nails began to cut into flesh, so hard was his fists balled.

Rearing forward then back, Diana slammed her head in the man's nose, drawing blood and a scream from him.

He dropped her.

She advanced, leveling blow after blow, connecting with knee, wrist and elbow.

Clark had seen her do this before. It was one of her many Kung Fu routines that looked pretty and sexy when performed in tight spandex, her opponent a wooden dummy. Yet now, as Clark watched on, his wife quickly and effectively picking the men apart, he understood the purpose of each strike.

Every single gracefully aimed attack was meant, not to kill, but to incapacitate. Each strike, delivered with expert force, broke what it was intended to break.

The night Diana had accepted his proposal; he'd gotten her to promise him two things - one, to never endanger her life, and two, to never kill.

Now, as he saw the three massive men struggle to their feet, broken and hurt but determined to catch their prey, Clark could see the fatigue and uncertainty in Diana's eyes.

If she had finished them, the way Phillipus and Dinah had trained her to, she would be here with him now – fired up and angry as hell. But here and safe.

No fool, Diana turned to run.

And ran smack into a fourth kidnapper.

Roughly, he grabbed her by her shoulders. Then, with no care that she was a woman and much smaller than him, he shook her like a rag doll. Her head flopped back and forth, her mouth gritted in pain and fury.

She kicked out at him, but he avoided her feet, her knees and her forehead.

Diana struggled and swore, if Clark read her lips correctly.

The three other kidnappers dragged and held broken limbs as they neared, vicious smiles of satisfaction on their faces.

Kicking with remarkable might, Diana landed a blow to the fourth kidnapper's inner thigh. When he winced and staggered from the blow, she kicked again - same thigh with even greater force.

He let her go, dropping her.

Landing as nimbly as the kitten they'd used to draw down her defenses, Diana caught herself.

But it didn't matter, she was surrounded - burly, angry men on all sides.

They closed in.

His wife disappeared behind a wall of broad shoulders.

By the time a van had driven up and the sea of men Clark would personally eviscerate parted, Diana was unconscious.

Then she was in the van. The door slid closed, the men hobbled inside, and the van pulled off, Clark's dragon treasure inside.

Dick had been right, no man should ever have to watch his wife's kidnapping. He would be sick. The bile was already rising.

Clark swallowed it down. Now wasn't the time.

He had a wife to find and save, an army of guards to deploy, and four kidnappers to scorch with his dragon's fire.

"Where are you going, Clark?" he heard Dick yell as he stalked out of the surveillance room.

Clark didn't answer, just moved swiftly to the bank of elevators.

It was a stupid question, after all, Clark's inner response primal and male.

_To take back what's mine._

* * *

**Next: Man on a Mission**


	8. Chapter 8: Man on a Mission

**Chapter 8: Man on a Mission**

**Gotham City**

**Earlier . . .**

This mission hadn't gone at all how Non had planned. Messy and complicated didn't begin to describe how this mission, his last if he and his team were successful, had spiraled dangerously close to out-of-control and utter failure. As it was, —he glared at the bruised, broken, and bloody men climbing into the van— Lor had failed to accomplish his own mission. If the idealistic fool had half the charm he'd claimed, Diana Wayne would now be on her willing way to Krypton instead of an unconscious and bleeding pain in his ass.

Non bit back his growl of anger, as he made sure to drive calmly out of the garage and away from Wayne Industries. Staying within the speed limit, he obeyed every traffic law, cautiously checking the rear view mirror every few seconds to make sure no one followed.

No one did.

Non breathed a bit easier as the miles between his captor's security guards and him increased, giving way, finally, to a relieved sigh when he spotted the safe house. Turning onto the graveled path, he parked the van then turned in his seat to face his men.

And swore.

Now that his racing heart had slowed, his mind had settled, and they were safe from cops and the League, Non got a good look at his team.

Blood was everywhere.

Faces.

Necks.

Shirts.

Hands.

Cuts as well, deep, ragged abrasions to cheeks, noses, and necks. Legs and arms were held at awkward angels, sure signs that Non had been correct in his early assessments. _Broken bones._

Non peered down at the dark-haired woman who lay sprawled in the center of his men. Even in her silent, unconscious state, her face, while undeniably beautiful, told a warrior's story. Willpower and fury heated her features, smooth, flawless skin and perfectly plucked brows unable to conceal the wildcat residing within.

It spoke to Non, for he carried his own beast, barely tamed but for the red-and-white pill he downed every morning. If not for that little pill, Non would've already broken the necks of his so-called "elite" team for their shameful defeat at the hands of a woman and then he would have taken pleasurable hours proving to Diana Kent that her body and her life was no longer hers but his.

Hard, gray eyes snapped from the sleeping temptation and to the four groaning men.

"Why is she bleeding?"

No one answered, at least not at first. Then his second-in-command spoke, his voice laced with embarrassment, his vengeful eyes settling on the woman between them. "She slipped and hit her head."

The man lied. Yet lying was but one of many honed talents of his team. The only truth any of them knew, any of them believed in was Krypton, they lived, breathed, and would die for their motherland. _And a great enemy threatens._

"What does it matter?" Non's second shoved Diana Kent's leg with his boot, bloodlust a familiar glean in the man's eyes. "You're going to kill her anyway. What's a bump or two to the head?" He raised his foot again, this time, Non could see, to strike with his heel to her ribcage.

Non stopped the petty blow, catching his second's foot before he broke a rib. _Or worse._ He held the black booted foot in one hand, closing fingers tighter around it when his second made to yank it away.

"You had your chance Bul-Fa, and from the looks of that blue-and-black wrist of yours, the woman was the victor. We have little honor but to Krypton and the man who will restore our family name, but even an outcast isn't as low as to strike a wounded deer.

With brutal force, Non squeezed Bul's ankle until he heard two snaps. His second, a man Non's known for fifteen years, knew better than to scream. Instead, brown eyes hardened even more.

Non released the broken ankle, and then made an unavoidable decision. The moment Diana Kent had decided to fight, the moment she'd determined to stand her ground and not be hustled into the van for the talk they intended to have with her, she'd sealed all their fates.

No, that was a lie. Their fate had been sealed the moment Non was given the mission. Of course the woman would fight, only a weak-kneed girl would willingly go with strangers. And Diana Kent was a too powerful force of nature, which was why she had to die.

* * *

**Wayne Industries**

**Now . . .**

Clark followed Dick off the elevator. The detective had caught up with him after he'd stormed out of the surveillance room. Now, they walked the same path Diana had two hours ago, the garage quiet except for the tap, tap, tap of his and Dick's shoes. Images of the fight still burned in his throbbing head, as did the sight of a boneless and bleeding Diana held then tossed into a van.

The van hadn't sped away the way Clark thought it would have. The driver, unseen by the security cameras, had taken his time, driving slowly. One of the outside cameras had picked up the van after it exited the building and made its way in front of Wayne Industries. Once it past the building, the feed ended, giving Clark and Dick nothing to go on as to which direction the van had taken.

Now they were in the garage, standing in front of Diana's cold Mercedes. Clark had no idea what Dick expected to find down here, but he stood with quiet impatience, forced to admit he was out of his depth. He might have once reported on crimes such as this one when he wrote for the _Daily Planet_, and he'd dabbled in the crime/mystery genre a time or two, but Clark was no detective and he had no real idea how to go about finding his wife.

But find her he would . . . he must, because any other result was unacceptable.

Clark watched as Dick's eyes scoured the crime scene. He took notes in a little blue notebook and pictures on his JL phone. Dick had already sent his wife Barbara, the League's computer genius and all-around hacker, a copy of the security footage. She would run the kidnapper's faces through a multitude of databases until—hopefully—she found something useful.

But that would take time. Time Clark didn't think Diana had.

"Anything?"

Dick had disappeared behind Diana's car. He stood.

Clark narrowed his eyes at the tiny creature Dick held in his arms. He snorted. "I thought the damn thing was a cat."

"So did I. I guess this" —Dick plucked at the furry, black-and-white sweater the dog wore— "thing is meant to keep the puppy warm."

Clark eyed the pathetic puppy, shivering in Dick's arms, dark eyes wary.

"It's actually entirely white, I believe. Kinda cute, too, if you go for the scrawny dog type."

Dick handed the puppy to Clark, virtually forcing the thing into his hands. Those dark eyes shone like frightened marbles and Clark wished he could hate the simpering white ball of innocence. But he couldn't. The puppy had been a tool and nothing more. And it was cute in an it's-not-my-fault-I-was-used-to-distract-your-wife kind of way. No, it wasn't the puppy's fault. Besides, the men had abandoned the animal after they'd gotten what they'd wanted.

Clark lifted the puppy, examining it until Dick asked, "What are you doing?"

"I've never seen a dog like this before. I mean, I'm not an expert on breeds of dogs but I've never seen this kind of dog before."

Dick shrugged. "Right now that dog could be Cujo Junior for all I care, it's evidence so keep it safe and with you."

Evidence? The white puppy was at that. _But how much can Dick expect to learn?_ Clark didn't know but he could see why his wife had been drawn to the tiny thing. Like Clark, Diana loved animals and they'd discussed buying a kitten or puppy for the girls when they turned one next month. Lois's allergies prevented C.J. from having his own pet but Clark had known that the idea to get Catherine and Daphne a pet was as much for them as it was for their older brother who was, at nearly seven, much more capable of taking care of and enjoying the animal than the twins.

Clark wandered away from Dick, securing the warm and now sleeping evidence in his arms. One elevator ride and a short walk later, Clark found himself in his wife's office. When Bruce was alive, it had been his office and his father's before that. Now, it belonged to Diana, who, after many years of holding onto Bruce, had let him go. When she'd finally redecorated the office, two months after accepting Clark's marriage proposal, any lingering doubts about her commitment to him had vanished.

Gone were the dark, masculine colors of the Waynes. Soothing shades of blue and green surrounded Clark. On a wall, the one nearest Diana's desk, was a mural. Divided into three sections, ancient Greece lived. Acropolis of Athens, Delphi, and Olympia, painted in vibrant, affirming hues drew the viewer, making them feel, with a few steps, they could step into the mural and the past.

Clark sank onto Diana's sofa. The white dog slept on, even after Clark placed it on the cushion beside him.

He closed his eyes, sensing Diana's presence in the one place, besides their home, where she spent most of her time. He had to figure this out, had to come up with a scheme to find his wife. Something niggled at him, something, since watching that god-awful footage he felt he was missing.

_Ring. Ring. Ring._

Clark's eyes popped open.

_Ring. Ring. Ring._

Jumping to his feet, Clark dove for the desk phone. "Hello."

"Clark? Why are you answering Diana's phone?"

_Lois._ Disappointment, like the knife wound he'd suffered two years ago, bled through him. For irrational seconds, Clark had hoped it was Dick or Manny with news of Diana. But neither of them knew where to find him. He'd left Dick in the garage and Manny in the surveillance room.

"What do you want Lois?" Curt. Mean. He didn't care.

"Okay, whatever argument you and Diana are having, I just want to know when she will arrive to pick up C.J. She called a couple of hours ago and said she was on her way. I thought Diana would've been here by now. That wife of yours is never late. I guess I know why she's not answering her cell. But really Clark, just because you're upset with Diana, that's no reason to take it out on me."

Angry words sprang to Clark's mind, and, before he could lid the boiling pot, some of the scalding water overflowed.

"Oh, I'm so sorry Lois if having C.J. there spoils your Billy Batson plans. But tell you what, the next time you want barely legal to scratch your itch, how about waiting until he's not at work where he should be _guarding my wife_."

He yelled the last bit, Lois's gasps telling him he'd hurt and shocked her. Later, Clark would feel guilty and apologize, Now however, he felt nothing but cold blood oozing from his heart wound.

"While you were seducing Billy with talk of lingerie and promised sex, Diana was kidnapped, right under the big oafs distracted eyes. So, yeah, Diana is late. She won't be coming." He laughed, brittle and mean. "I guess, neither will you."

"Clark . . . I . . . what? Diana's been kidnapped. I had no idea. That's horrible, I—"

"Tell C.J. Diana is sick and nothing more." The last thing he needed was to upset C.J., sending the boy into a stressed-induced epileptic attack.

"Yes, yes, of course. I'm really sorry. Has there been a ransom? I'm sure they just want money. Why else would someone kidnap the CEO of Wayne Industries?"

Clark wasn't about to get into the details of Diana's disappearance with Lois. Much calmer, but no less furious, Clark said, "I'll call C.J. tomorrow. Please apologize to him for me. I know how much he anticipates our weekends together. I hate to disappoint him but . . ."

"I'm sorry." A whispered apology Clark knew Lois meant. But it didn't matter. Her sincere apology would change nothing. "Let me know if there is something . . . anything I can do."

"You've already done enough." Unfair, but not totally untrue. "I'll find her." His mission. "I'll find my wife." His vow.

Clark hung up.

He turned, noticing the puppy stared up at him. Clark stared back. Then images of the fight scene in the garage began to flit through his mind. He saw Diana face-off against her kidnappers. But first she'd removed her shoes.

Why? Why would she do that? At first he assumed she'd removed them to use as a weapon. But she didn't. She'd simply dropped them and used her keys as a weapon instead. Now he wondered if she took off her heels because it was more comfortable to fight in bare feet than heels. Yet Clark recalled her sparing in heels before with Dinah. The blonde martial arts expert had told Diana that a woman had to be prepared to defend herself no matter where she was or what she wore. They'd fought in heels and form-fitting skirts on many occasions.

So, again, why would Diana remove her heels if not to use them as a weapon and if they weren't an encumbrance?

Needing to see the footage again, Clark grabbed the puppy and headed for the door.

* * *

**Metropolis**

**At the same time . . .**

Ever since his family had been violently and inexcusably taken from him, Detective John Jones had found it difficult to trust and make friends. Since moving to Metropolis a decade ago, John had managed to eke out a decent life, if not a happy one. Yet much of his solitary existence had begun to fade when one stubbornly fierce woman had entered his life.

Diana Kent, a tragic family past far too similar to John's, had done the impossible. She'd invaded his safe, orderly world and effortlessly brought him into her own. Two years later, John still hadn't figured out how he'd allowed the woman to talk him, a loner, into joining the Justice League - a group of business-minded humanitarians with too much money and far too many schemes for John's comfort.

Yet she'd lured him in with nothing more than the most basic of baits for a man like him. _Justice. Truth. Protection. _Everything he stood for and all the reasons he had to leave home when his family was murdered. Justice, truth, and protection. They were his driving forces, the motivations behind all good and decent cops.

And she'd trusted him, when John hadn't liked or trusted her, wary of a woman skilled at managing and manipulating people and situations.

Then she befriended John, and introduced him to her family and friends. They, like Diana, had embraced the somber and distant John, extending him their trust when he'd done little to earn such faith. Although Diana always had a way of giving him credit for capturing Bane and the Joker, credit he didn't deserve. Yet he could have prevented what happened that night at the Adirondack cabin. John didn't have to go along with Diana's plan. But he had, thinking if he couldn't avenge his own family, he could at least help Diana avenge hers.

That single decision alone, John knew, had formed a bond between the working-class detective and the billionaire CEO.

Now, two years later, Detective John Jones understood Diana Kent and the Justice League better. He understood, and he supported their causes. He was one of them, part of something bigger than himself and his loss. John's pain, while still a deep, gnawing hole in his heart, ached a little less nowadays. With each successful mission, the pain ebbed that much more.

"Sit down Mr. Ui."

The tall, dark-haired man sat.

John didn't. He couldn't. The phone call from Jor El had been the last news he'd expected to hear. _"Diana's been kidnapped. Clark thinks Kara's fiancée may have something to do with it. We really don't know for sure, but Clark's afraid Lor will bolt before we can get to him. He needs you to get to him first, John. Diana's life may depend on it."_

"You can't keep me here against my will, Detective Jones."

No, no he couldn't. _But I will._

"Is there some place else you would rather be, Mr. Ui? From what I understand, you are visiting the Kents. Why are you suddenly in a hurry to leave?"

"I-I'm not in a hurry." Ui leaned back against the cushions. It did nothing to convince John the man was relaxed instead of nervous as hell. "Ever since Alfred sent the nanny home, he's been eyeing me as if I've killed somebody. Now you're here telling me I can't leave until Clark gets home."

"I have a few questions for you. I'm sure you wouldn't mind answering a few questions."

"No, no, of course not. What's this all about, detective? Maybe you should begin there."

Ah, Ui was nicely working his way from fear and uncertainty, grasping onto the seemingly safe ledge of intellect and common sense.

Hands clasped behind his back, John stared down at the younger man, trying to discern the threat Clark and Jor saw. Secrets and pride was there, perhaps a speck of deceit but nothing more vile than that, at least nothing John could detect without more time in the man's presence.

"Why don't you begin by telling me why you wanted Diana's help so desperately, and the extent you would go to to get it?"

Like the rays of the sun ushering in a new day, so too did realization dawn on Lor Ui's face.

"Something has happened to Diana?"

"Why don't you tell me?"

Quickly, Lor rose to his feet, agitated, no longer bothering to feign calmness.

"I can't believe he would do this. He must have had me followed. He must have known I would find someone to help me defeat him."

Ui rambled, running trembling hands through hair, voice jerky and speech too fast.

"Who are you talking about? Who had you followed?"

"My father. Dammit, I should have known. I should've have known."

Ui lunged for the door.

John grabbed him, spun him around.

"I need to go. I have to find Kara and get her the hell out of here. If his men are here, I'm not safe, she's not safe."

Ui began to tug, clearly eager to be on his way.

John's grip tightened, and then gave the frantic Ui a harsh shake.

"Calm down and you're going nowhere. Kara and Lara are on their way here. Once they arrive, you'll tell us all about your father and why you think he's involved in Diana's kidnapping."

Ui paled and slumped in John's arms before quickly righting himself, face red and flushed.

"Diana's been kidnapped," Ui repeated to himself, disbelief in his shaky voice.

John released the man, his dress, cotton shirt now wrinkled from where John had grabbed him.

"I saw her when she left this morning. She was happy, smiling, told me she'd see me and Kara at dinner." Ui spoke more to his feet than to John's face. "Tonight is our last night here. We have an early flight out to California tomorrow."

They wouldn't be making that flight. Ui should know that by now. While Lor may not be behind the kidnapping, and John wasn't convinced of that, he was in possession of key information that might help them save Diana and capture the men who'd taken her.

Glancing at his watch, John decided to begin the interrogation. Waiting for Lara and Kara would only waste time Diana didn't have.

"Sit back down, Mr. Ui, and tell me about your father and the men he sent after Diana Kent."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Wayne Industries**

"Run it again Manny."

He did, not questioning Clark, even though they'd watched the same footage over a dozen times. Clark was grateful for Manny's patience and his loyalty to Diana. But the question remained.

"Why would Diana remove her shoes?" That had been the first question Clark had asked when he'd stormed into the surveillance room twenty minutes ago.

"I still can't answer that. I wish I knew especially if it's a clue of some sort."

_A clue?_ Yes, it did seem like a clue.

"Run in slow motion."

With a couple of button pushes, the video began to play in slow motion. Manny slowed it even more, moving through the frames then stopping when Diana removed her shoes.

Clark looked at the shoes then at Manny. Diana did nothing without a damn good reason. Every move, every decision was calculated; surely removing her shoes before a fight would be no different. But Clark saw nothing, nothing but an ankle bracelet.

Clark squinted at the object. He hadn't noticed it before. The slacks of her pants completely covered the jewelry. _Except for when she removed her shoes, lifting her foot and her pant leg to do so._

"Go back, please. Yes, yes, stop there." He touched the screen where the anklet was. "Can you zoom in on that, Manny?"

"Ah, yeah, sure."

Within seconds, Diana's ankle filled the screen, the expensive looking gold piece clear.

"Well, I'll be damned."

"What?" Clark spun on Manny. "What is it? Do you recognize the anklet?"

"I sure as hell do. That paranoid, jealous Trevor was actually good for something."

Clark could feel the blood vessels in his body begin to constrict with anticipation. This was the breakthrough he was hoping for, and from the way Manny was searching the storage cabinet, Clark knew Manny had just figured something out.

"Trevor knew we couldn't always be with Dr. Kent. He constantly worried for her safety back then, fearing someone would get to her, especially when she started dating you and cut down on her security detail." Keys, tasers, cuffs, and gun rounds fell to the floor as Manny continued his hectic search. "Trevor had Mr. Stone add a tiny tracking device to several of Dr. Kent's jewelry. You know, a watch, a broach" —he turned to Clark, a black box in his hand—"an ankle bracelet."

"Are you telling me we can track Diana?"

"I damn sure hope so. This thing's been sitting in the locker for two years."

"It'll work. If Vic created it then it will work."

Manny checked the device, removing the old batteries then installing new ones. The red light on the top of the device lit then began to beep.

Manny flipped it over, pushed something, and then one of the surveillance screens came to life. A map of Gotham appeared, an aerial view of the city. At the edge of the city, at the Gotham-Metropolis border, a gold circle beeped.

Manny's eyes lit up.

Clark's heart soared.

"Did we . . . did we just find my wife?"

Stunned, Manny faced Clark. "How did you know?"

He didn't know, not for certain. But Diana was a strategist, and while she loved and would always protect Clark, she had to know he would push Manny until he found something, Manny, who knew about Trevor's obsession, Manny who was her trusted Chief of Security. Better, Diana had worn the anklet, although Clark hadn't fully explained his fears to her. And now, what was probably just a wife's loving indulgence, may have just saved her life.

_If we can get to her in time._

"Contact Dick. I'll meet you and everyone else in the lobby."

* * *

**Southern Gotham City**

**Forty-five minutes later**

Ten minutes ago, Dick, Manny, and ten Wayne guards swarmed the two-story home at the end of the winding, gravel path.

"Don't you even think about getting out of this damn car," Dick had snarled at Clark. "You shouldn't even be here. Gordon will have my ass and my badge if he finds out about this."

Clark had wanted to argue, to plead his point. But that would've wasted too much time, time Diana did not have. The gold circle hadn't moved while they were en route, Clark monitoring the mobile tracking device while Dick drove. But that only meant the anklet was in the house. It didn't necessarily mean Diana still wore the jewelry or that she was safe and unharmed.

He'd grabbed Dick's shoulder before the detective had scrambled from the car. "Bring her back. Please."

His friend had nodded, his jaw and eyes all about League business. If Diana was in the house, Clark knew Dick would get her out. And if those bastards who'd taken her were in there, well, the guards would take care of them.

But now, waiting in a silent car and a deserted neighborhood, the sun having set on the drive, Clark could wait no longer. Opening the door, he stepped out.

He heard nothing as he approached, no shouts, no screams, no gunfire, nothing but eerie silence. Walking up on the porch, Clark entered the house, the front door left open.

The dark house looked abandoned, boarded up windows and weak, creaking floorboards. Clark lifted his head. He could hear soft talking and footsteps above him. Moving to the steps, Clark ascended the stairs. Once up there, flashlight beams from the guards lit the upstairs.

Like the deadly soldiers they were, they huddled in front of a room at the end of the hall.

Knowing his Diana had to be inside, Clark ran down the hall and charged into the room.

Skidding to a halt, Clark's eyes settled on a dingy, stained mattress in the middle of the empty room.

An unmoving figure lay on top of the mattress. _Diana._

Clark dropped to his knees, seeing that Manny and Dick were already on theirs. Dick was checking her vitals and Clark could do nothing but stare at the lifeless form of his wife.

Manny, who was as quiet as a sentry, held his flashlight steady while Dick examined Diana then raised it to her face when Dick checked the pulse at her neck. It was then Clark got a good look at Diana.

A bright red halo circled her head. But it was her face, the golden, bronze of her Greek heritage overshadowed by an unnatural, green tint that had Clark reaching for her. Cradling his wife against his chest, Clark rocked her, hearing the wail of an ambulance in the background but also the slow breathing of life.

Hers.

Tears fell.

His.

He held Diana closer, warming her with his dragon heat. As weak and unconscious as she was, Clark had found his lost treasure. But she looked so sick, felt too cold. _What did they do to you?_

* * *

**Next: Deadly Truths**


	9. Chapter 9: Deadly Truths

**Chapter 9: Deadly Truths**

**Gotham City **

**Earlier . . .**

"We left my dog."

"Shut up already about that damn dog."

"But—"

"I said shut up!" Non turned to Bul. When he wasn't sneaking murderous peeks at the Kent woman, he was whining about that tiny, white pup of his. Non was done with both. "If you gave a damn about the runt, you wouldn't have left without him."

This earned a snarl from Bul, who, in his current broken and bruised state, was as threatening as that pathetic puppy he'd dragged all the way from Argo City. Using the scrawny creature had been one of his second's better ideas. After all, what woman could resist a cute puppy in distress?

"Just watch the road and text me if someone drives by."

Not that Non expected company. They were far off the beaten path. The neighborhood was under gentrification, but the renovations had yet to begin.

"But I thought we were all going in." Bul glanced behind him and to the rest of the team, all in need of medical attention.

"I'm not sure. I have an uneasy feeling about staying here too long."

"Why? No one followed us."

Bul was right. Still, something about the snatch and grab, beyond how much of a fight Kent had put up, made Non uneasy. He couldn't explain it, or perhaps it was the too calm blue eyes that had met his when the woman had awoken five minutes ago. He'd yanked her from the van, hoisted her over his shoulder, and carried her into the old house.

Up the stairs he'd taken her, the woman oddly compliant for such a fierce fighter. Then again, her head was bleeding and the pain he'd seen cross her face when he'd dropped her onto the mattress was very real. But that hadn't been the reason why his hackles were suddenly up. No, it had been the cold certainty in the only words she'd spoken. "_He'll find me. He'll find you."_

She'd stared up at him, no fear in her glassy eyes. A knowing smile followed, cruel and hate filled. Without thinking, Non had taken a step back then halted once he'd realized what he'd done. Then the mocking grin had faded and the hard, blue eyes closed – passed out.

"He'll find us," Non heard himself say to Bul, not knowing the "he" to which Non or the woman referred. But if Kent was as positive of being found as Non believed her to be, he would take no chances.

"Who are you talking about? I told you, this is the perfect spot, no one around for blocks. We're safe here. And, shit, I need to set my ankle and wrist. They hurt like a motherfucker."

The men behind Bul grumbled their agreement, also needing to see to their injuries. But they would have to wait.

Non hustled to the passenger side of the van, pulled the door open, and began hunting around in the glove box. Throwing out papers and other trash, Non finally found the black, rectangular box he was searching for. Holding the eyeglass case sized box, Non felt better. In a few minutes, whomever Kent thought was coming for her would be too late. Her rescuer might find her body but he would be too late to save her soul.

"Let me take care of this then I'll get us all the hell out of here." Their private plane awaited them. His team wouldn't like it, but they would have to wait until they were in the air to deal with their injuries. Non had been in this business too long not to listen to his gut. It had saved his ass countless times, and he wouldn't die in some shithole American city because he didn't listen to it now.

He ran back into the house and up the stairs, finding the woman exactly where he'd left her. There was more blood on the mattress now, and he wondered if the head injury would do her in first.

Kneeling, Non removed the torn jacket she wore and rolled up a sleeve of her white shirt. Spots of blood sprinkled the fine garment. He snorted. The Kent woman was feisty and had drawn first blood on his men. No wonder Bul wanted to kill her. If given another chance, she'd probably take their manhood. Well, all Diana Kent's chances were up. But he really needed her to survive the head injury. She would die, true, but it had to be according to the plan. She needed to stay alive long enough for Jor-El to diagnose his daughter-in-law and do what any decent Kryptonian would do.

Opening the black box, Non carefully removed the syringe from the cushion that protected it. Locating a nice vein, Non inserted the syringe, pushing the plunger until the contents flowed freely and completely into the unconscious Kent.

There, it was done. Now all he had to do was get his men home and wait for the rest of the plan to fall into place. If Diana Kent was correct, and he didn't doubt she was, her savior would be arriving soon. So, yeah, he'd find her but—_he'll never find me. _

* * *

**Gotham City, Wayne Industries**

**At the same time . . .**

"We found her. At least, I think we have."

Jor stared at his son, who, at some point, had been given a bulletproof vest. He wore it now, looking no different than the determined-faced Wayne guards stalking to their company Jeeps parked in front of the building. The only difference was that they had guns strapped to hips where Clark had no such weapons.

They stood in the front of Wayne Industries, Jor watching, wide-eyed, as the men and women jumped into vehicles, eager, angry looks on their faces. He'd seen such images before, and had prayed he'd never see them again. _That's the reason why Lara and I came to the States. So tired of war, so tired of violence and bloodshed in the name of freedom._

But how else was Clark to retrieve Diana? As soon as Clark had handed him a white puppy, Jor had known who had taken Diana and why. _And it's all my fault. Dear Rao, it's all my fault. Clark will never forgive me._

The dog, the one Jor now held in his arms, was native to only one country—Krypton. Once he'd seen Clark carrying it, and had learned how it had been used to capture Diana, Jor had known that the men who'd been watching his house had gone after his son's wife. _But for what purpose? Revenge?If so, why go after Diana, why not Clark or Lara?_

"Wait for me here, Dad. I'll call once I have news of Diana."

Clark didn't wait for Jor to reply; he ran down the steps and hopped into a car with the Gotham detective.

A minute later, Jor stood by himself, the business park closed for the evening, the street quiet. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed his wife.

"Thank Rao," Lara said as soon as she picked up. "Kara and I have been worried sick. What's the news of Diana? Has she been found? Is she okay?"

His wife sounded out of breath.

"Where are you? What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to keep up with our niece. She's practically running up Clark's driveway and to the house. She drove like a demon to get here."

"Well, Detective Jones should already be inside with Lor. You'll have to tell her the truth. I wish I could be there with you, but I have to stay here. I can't leave Clark to deal with this on his own."

"I can handle Lor and Kara, but what of Diana? Tell me before I go into the house."

Lara's breathing had slowed which probably meant she was now standing still. He hated the thought of her dealing with Lor by herself, but was comforted knowing that the detective was there. Diana trusted Jones and so would Jor. He really had no choice.

"Clark and Detective Grayson believe they know where she is. They've gone after her. I don't know how they found her so quickly, but Clark seemed cautiously optimistic that they knew where she was being held."

A relieved breath escaped Lara. "That's very good. By all that's merciful, I pray she's unharmed. What kind of barbarians would kidnap a wife and mother? For money, I suppose."

Jor contemplated whether he should share what he knew with his wife. He wanted to. There were no secrets between them, and he wouldn't begin now.

"I think the men who've been watching us took Diana. I'll explain later," he said when he heard her about to interrupt. "If that's the case, then it's almost certain that Lor Ui had something to do with her disappearance. The connection to his family and the timing of his visit can't be a coincidence."

"If that's the case, do you think it a good idea for me to tell Kara what we know. Maybe we shouldn't let Lor know that we are onto him. If he knows, he'll probably flee."

Jor had thought about that. "If we don't tell Kara, she'll likely return to California with him and marry the man. As far as Lor running off and hiding somewhere, that's why the detective is there. He won't allow that to happen."

"Are you sure, Jor? Jones has no legal reason to hold Lor against his will. He could walk out the front door and, legally, the detective would have to allow it. If he does that, we can't stop him."

"Jones is Justice League."

"And you think that's enough?"

Honestly, Jor had no clue what in the hell it all meant. But the League was one big family, bound by love and trust. And if John Jones were anything like Dick Grayson, Lor Ui wouldn't be going anywhere.

"If he couldn't be trusted to do his job, Clark wouldn't have had me call him. If nothing else, we can trust our son's opinion."

That would be enough for Lara.

"Fine, I'll deal with Kara and Lor. But please, Jor, let us know as soon as Diana is found. I can't bear the thought of her alone with a bunch of kidnappers."

Jor couldn't bear the thought of losing his son again. But there was nothing he could do now but deal with the current situation. "As soon as I know, you'll know. Be careful. Love you."

"Love you, too."

* * *

**Metropolis, Kent Residence**

After Alfred had let Lara and Kara into the house, the grandmother in Lara wanted nothing more than to find her granddaughters and hold them forever. Thank Rao they were too young to know what was going on. But how long would that last? Not that Catherine and Daphne were old enough to understand that their mother had been kidnapped, but if Diana didn't return home soon, surely the twins would begin to notice and miss her absence. What would Clark do then?

Squelching the urge to see the girls, Lara allowed Alfred to lead the way to where Lor and Detective Jones were. Opening the door, Kara and Lara walked inside.

"Thank you Alfred. Let me know if Jor or Clark calls."

The thin framed man nodded, eyes a solemn brown. Lara ached for the pain she saw in his eyes. He'd been through this before, she knew, when Diana had been shot and left for dead. Whenever Diana spoke of Alfred Pennyworth, it was as a granddaughter spoke of a beloved grandfather. Alfred played the role well, doting on Diana and her twins, taking care of them the way only a man of his generation could.

"And Alfred, please don't inform Hippolyta or the Marthas about this. Not yet. Not until we know more."

"I wouldn't dream of alarming them, ma'am. Until we know more, that would never do."

Lara should have known Alfred would understand.

"Will there be anything else, Mrs. El?"

"No, thank you."

Alfred bowed, stepped out of the room, and closed the door behind him.

By the time Lara turned to the others in the room, Kara was at Lor's side, sitting beside him on the couch while Detective Jones hovered by the fireplace.

"What have we missed?" Lara's question was directed at the detective.

"Well, Mr. Ui just relayed to me a very interesting story about his father and what may be his role in Diana's kidnapping."

"I-I don't understand," Kara said. "What does your father have to do with Diana's kidnapping?"

Lara watched the couple. And, for not the first time, felt sorry for Kara. She truly loved Lor Ui. Surprsingly, the same love and affection in Kara's eyes were also reflected in Lor's. The young man may have been spawned from the Devil himself, but there was no masking how he felt about Kara. Yet there was more in Lor's eyes. _Guilt? Shame?_

That couldn't be right, Lara thought. His father knew no guilt, didn't waste his time on shame. _But he's not his father, is he?_

Lor cradled Kara's hands in his own, his focus and words all for her.

"I knew eventually I'd have to tell you the truth, but I never thought it would be like this, come out like this."

"What are you talking about?"

"My family, Kara, my pathetic excuse for a family."

"I assumed your parents were dead. Are you saying they aren't?"

"No, they aren't dead, though many probably wish they were."

"My uncle and aunt told me they know your father, that I know your father. But I've never met your parents."

Lor glanced up at Lara then back to Kara.

"The whole damn world knows my father, Kara. He's the reason so many Krptonians died, the reason why the old Council members were killed, the reason why Krypton hasn't known peace in decades."

Kara visibly shrank from Lor, her body closing in on itself when her knowledge of Kryptonian history violently collided with the man before her, the man she'd given her heart to.

"Your father is General Dru-Zod? Y-you're the son of that murdering, despotic bastard?" Kara leapt to her feet, eyes suddenly wide with horror and morbid comprehension. "I can't believe this. No wonder you didn't tell me the truth." She spun on Lor, who'd also risen. "He virtually enslaved the El family. He brought our country to its knees for his own version of a better Krypton. He slaughtered all who opposed him, including my grandfather who sat on the Council."

He'd done far more than that, the assassination of the Council Zod's first step to authoritarian rule.

"I wanted to tell you, Kara. Rao, I tried so many times to tell you, but the time never seemed right."

"Before you proposed would've been a good time. Or how about before you let me fall in love with you, or maybe before we shared a bed. Any of those times would've been the right damn time. Not hours after my friend and cousin-in-law's kidnapping."

Kara faced Lara. "I guess this is what you and Uncle Jor wanted me to know, why the two of you didn't trust Lor?"

"We planned on telling you and Clark today." Then Clark received that awful phone call and had run off in search of his missing wife.

Lor grabbed Kara's shoulders and spun her around to face him, his eyes and voice pleading, desperate.

"I'm not my father, dammit. I'm not him. I don't think like him. I don't believe in the same things he does. And I sure as hell have never killed anyone. I've spent my entire life running away from his name, his legacy. That's why I've taken my mother's name. I'm no Zod."

Lor's mother wasn't much better. This Lara knew for a fact, but she said nothing. The fact that Lor had willingly confessed his true identity to Detective Jones then to Kara wasn't to be easily ignored. The young man could be telling the truth, or simply manipulating them all to his and his father's benefit. Right now, Lara didn't know what to make of his confession.

"I agree with everything you said about Zod. He went to jail for his crimes. Hell, he should still be in jail."

"But he escaped," Lara deigned to add.

"Yes, he escaped. I don't know how, but he did. Now he's managed to form an army and they're threatening to take down the Kryptonian government."

"So your father is the rebel leader we've been talking about for months." Kara pushed Lor's hands off her, a disgusted snort following. "And you've known all this time. You knew precisely who was behind the bombings and shootings. Yet you never told me."

"No, I didn't. I know now I should have. I thought I could make things right. I thought if I helped bring about peace in Krypton that I could somehow make up for all that my father has done. I thought I could restore honor to the House of Zod."

"And where did I fit into your master plan? Oh right, I'm the cousin-in-law of the woman you needed to broker that peace deal of yours."

Tears fell but Kara's voice was steel hard. Lara wanted to go to her, to pull her niece into her arms and take the pain away. But Kara was far too old for such motherly coddling and she wasn't nearly done yet.

"I was such a fool. I swallowed every lie, even argued with my family over you, taking your side when I should've trusted them. And now Diana is missing. Did your father have something to do with that, Lor?"

"I honestly don't know. I didn't think he knew where I was. I've been so careful, covered all my tracks. The leaders of the counterinsurgency don't know who I truly am, so they couldn't have told him."

"But you aren't certain. Unlike me, General Zod is no fool. Do you think it a coincidence that the very week you visit Diana and ask for her help that she's abducted?"

For long seconds, Lor said nothing, his eyes lowered to the floor.

"Tell me one thing, Lor, and, for once, be honest. Did you have anything to do with Diana's kidnapping?"

Head and eyes lifted. The shame was back, but not the guilt. Lor, for all his lies and maneuverings, appeared as grief stricken as the rest of them. If she weren't witnessing it herself, Lara would never have believed a Zod capable of remorse, of repentance. Not for his role in Diana's kidnapping, for Lara could now see the young man's confused but innocent soul in his clear eyes, but for deceiving the woman who loved him. _The woman he loves in return._

"For what it's worth, Kara, I swear on my life. I had nothing to do with Diana's kidnapping."

* * *

**Gotham City, Gotham Memorial Hospital**

**Three Hours Later . . .**

Clark sat beside Diana's hospital bed. He hadn't moved from the spot since the doctor had finished her examination. He peered up at her now. Dr. Samuel, a middle-age African-American woman with kind, intelligent eyes caught his gaze then shifted her own back to her patient, a puzzled look on her face.

"What is it?"

Dr. Samuel studied the chart in her hand then Diana's blank, unconscious face.

"She has one hell of a bump on her head. She's lost plenty of blood and she has a concussion." She frowned, the puzzled look deepening. "I've checked her for everything I can think of, given her every scan worth giving, and tested her blood. I can't explain it. She should be awake."

Awake, yes, Clark wished she were awake, but that wasn't all.

"She's green, doc. Why in the hell is she green? Did any of those tests tell you that?"

"The blood test revealed an unknown substance in her blood stream. I've sent another blood sample to the lab for further study. Hopefully, we'll know something soon."

Clark hated to ask but he needed to know.

"What about the other test."

"What other—" Their eyes met and he knew the instant she understood his vague question. She glanced at Diana again. "That's one thing I do know, Mr. Kent. There was no evidence of sexual assault."

Clark released the breath he hadn't known he'd held. "Thank you for that." Hoarse. The thought of all the vile things those men could've done to Diana while they held her captive flooded Clark's mind when he'd seen his wife lying on the mattress, one shirt sleeve up, jacket ripped and discarded on the floor, stockings torn, shirt stained with blood.

He touched his wife's cheek. _Pale. Green. Cold. _

"May I take her home? She hates hospitals."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kent. It wouldn't be a good idea to release your wife until we know more about her condition." She pointed to the bruise on the inside of Diana's elbow. "Someone used a syringe on your wife, probably injected her with the unknown substance I saw in her blood. I can't risk her health or someone else's by releasing Dr. Kent."

"When will the results be back?"

"I told the tech it was a rush." She looked at her wristwatch. "I think I'll go down there myself, see what's keeping him."

Dr. Samuel left the room, white coat silent as she walked.

Clark returned his focus to his wife. He had been so happy to see her alive, relieved yet still so scared. He knew it was a dumb question to ask about taking Diana home. But night had settled in and the twins were home without them. The family had never spent a single night apart.

Now, Diana would spend the night in the hospital. And as much as Clark wanted to be home with the twins, he couldn't go home without their mother. He couldn't crawl into his marital bed without Diana by his side. He couldn't find rest knowing the men who'd hurt her had gotten away and she lay unconscious in a hospital bed.

And the very kind Dr. Samuel hadn't told Clark the truth. No, the good doctor might not have known what the kidnappers had given Diana but she did know that whatever it was, it was slowly killing his wife. The sheer number of specialist she'd called in to assist her attested to that fact. No doctor wanted the famed Dr. Diana Kent, CEO and Justice Leaguer to die on her watch, particularly from some unknown virus.

"We need to talk."

"Not now, Dad. I just want to sit quietly with my wife."

Clark heard his father stand from where he sat in the corner and walk toward him and the bed. A strong, supportive hand touched his shoulder, and Clark had never been so glad to have his father by his side. If he allowed it, Clark would break down, crying like the five-year old he'd been so long ago. But what good would that do him or Diana?

No, he needed to be strong for his wife and family.

"I've been thinking. I should call Vic in on this one. He could help find out what in the hell those bastards shot Diana up with. Wayne Industries has top of the line labs. I'm sure Vic can—"

The hand on his shoulder tightened. "I know what they gave her, son."

Jor's hand dropped when Clark rose abruptly . "How could you possibly? And why in the hell didn't you say something earlier, when the doctor was in here?"

His father suddenly looked all of his sixty-five years. "I know because I created it in my lab."

"Your lab?"

"Yes, a very long time ago, when things were different and General Zod and his men needed to be stopped."

"What are you telling me?"

Jor moved to touch Diana but Clark stepped in his way. Their eyes met.

"I won't hurt her. I'd never hurt her."

Maybe not, but it sure as hell sounded like Jor already had.

"Tell me what you did."

"What I had to do, Clark, what I had to do so we could all survive. Diana's been injected with a deadly virus I created to take out General Zod's military regime. It was the only way."

"Deadly? As in she'll die?"

"It's meant to be slow acting. I don't know how much she was given or whether my original formula's been modified."

"What in the hell did you create, Jor? What is my wife dying from?"

"It's called kryptonite. A green ore found only in Krypton. As soon as I saw her green skin, I knew. Rao help me, I knew what they'd given her."

None of this made any sense to Clark, but he knew his father spoke the truth. The situation was far too dire, too serious for Jor not to be telling the truth.

"Is there a cure, an antidote?"

"Yes."

Thank god. "Where? Can you replicate it here, if Vic set you up in a lab?"

"It's been so long, Clark. I don't recall, and like I said, I'm not certain if the kidnappers used the original formula. All my notes are home."

"Then take my truck and go get them."

Jor shook his head. "Not home here, Clark, home as in Krypton. When Lara and I moved here, we left all of that stuff in storage. But I know someone in Krypton who will help us if I ask him."

Clark didn't like any of this. At every turn, Krypton kept smacking him in the face. He'd never been to his parent's home, now it suddenly held the answers to his prayers. He didn't need Diana to tell him something was off with this entire sorry set of events.

"And I suppose we have to go to Krypton to retrieve the antidote?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"What else aren't you telling me?"

"Plenty. I'm sorry, Clark."

Clark sighed. "How long does she have?"

"Three maybe four weeks."

Clark fell back into the chair, the deadly truth a hammer to his heart.

"Make the arrangements, Jor."

"I'll book the first flight out to Krypton."

"Two seats."

"Two? No, you can't go. You're needed here."

Clark stared at his father, and wondered if he knew the man at all. "Let me ask you a question, did you know there was a threat to me and my family?"

A reluctant, "Yes," was Jor's softly spoken response.

Clark swore.

"Two tickets then. I won't place Diana's life in the hands of a man who's been lying to me."

"I haven't been—"

"Not here, not now. I need to speak to my wife alone. Just book the flights, and I'll take care of the rest. Now, please go."

With one final glance at Clark then Diana, Jor left.

Clark stood, removed his shoes, and then crawled into bed with his wife. Wrapping her cold body in his arms, he held her to him.

Diana didn't deserve this fate. She'd teetered on the edge of life and death once before and survived. How many second chances did one woman get? For her sake, his, and their family, Clark prayed she had one more miracle in her. He prayed that whatever fates brought them back together, wouldn't be so cruel as to tear them apart so soon.

He kissed her cheek and held her closer, and for all the words in Clark's heart, he could only think of four to say. "I love you, Diana."

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	10. Chapter 10: Pearl Blossom

**Chapter 10: Pearl Blossom**

**Gotham City, Gotham Memorial Hospital**

**Three Days Ago . . .**

Jor stood with his back to the room, his eyes staring, unseeing, at the quiet parking lot below. Nothing worth looking at, yet he watched and waited. It was better than watching the woman who lay unconscious behind him, waiting for what he knew would never happen. _She won't wake up, no matter how long Clark sits with her, no matter how hard he prays, no matter how guilty I feel._

Lifting the cup of coffee to his lips, Jor blew then sipped. Black and hot, just the way he liked it. He sighed, unable to think of anything but Clark, Diana, the kryptonite, and the horror that had befallen his family. Jor thought he and Lara had left all the ugliness that had been their former lives and Krypton in the past. But, no, like a bad penny, it had resurfaced when he'd least expected. _Now I have to explain it all to Clark and hope he understands why I did what I did._

He hadn't explained much so far. Yet the time for full disclosure had long since passed. Clark wanted answers. _He deserves the truth_. Yes, he did, and Jor knew Clark wouldn't rest until he'd wrung every ugly fact from him. At least, Jor thought, downing more of the strong, black drink, he'd convinced Clark to wait a couple of days before running off to Krypton. Arrangements needed to be made, and Clark, overwhelmed with fear for his wife's health, hadn't truly taken the time to think through his plan.

But Jor, with the help of Lara, had managed to settle their son enough that he began to think clearly, rationally. Once in a better frame of mind, Clark had immediately known what he had to do. He'd called two people, women he trusted to care for his wife and girls while he was away – Hippolyta Prince and Martha Kent.

Martha had wasted no time getting to the hospital to visit Diana, her teary eyes and pale face only adding to Jor's sense of guilt. The woman hadn't asked questions, although he could see them flitting through her intelligent, brown eyes. Instead, she'd simply asked Clark, "What can I do to help?" Without waiting for a reply, Martha had wrapped her grown son in her warm, supportive arms. Clark had hugged her back, his big body dwarfing the older woman's, his sobs quiet, few, heartbreaking.

Jor watched as Lara had looked on, her eyes darting away subtly. The tears he knew were there never fell, but Jor understood his wife's pain, her jealousy, her regret. They'd given their son away. Sure, they'd done it to protect their little Kal El, but that brittle truth did nothing to assuage the guilt, the pangs of loss. Lara and Jor could not turn back the hands of time, nor could they erase the unintended pain they'd caused their son by leaving him with strangers. But Clark had been lucky, luckier than many children. The Kents had found and loved him. For that, Jor would be eternally grateful. As was Lara, even when it hurt her to watch her only child turn to another woman for love and support.

Finishing off the coffee, Jor swiveled his head. Eyeing the wastebasket a few feet away, Jor walked until he was close enough to toss the Styrofoam cup inside. Just when the cup landed, the door to Diana's room opened. Expecting to see Clark, Jor frowned at the visitor who was just as wide, just as tall, and just as dark-haired as Clark.

The man allowed the door to close behind him. With slow, methodic steps, the visitor made his way to Diana's bedside.

Jor said nothing. He knew this man, knew he intended Diana no harm. But Jor was also acutely aware of how Clark would react if he caught the man visiting his wife. As it was, Clark had a shoestring grip on his emotions. Not one to be easily angered, but once he was, Clark raged wild and hot. And the last thing Jor needed was for Clark to create a scene in the hospital; getting himself tossed out by some underpaid and overworked security guard.

Yet, peering through the eyes of a man who'd seen and done much, Jor couldn't bring himself to ask the visitor to leave. The reason for the man's visit, if Jor had a doubt in is mind, which he didn't, was made clear when he lifted Diana's left hand, stared at her bruised knuckles, and then kissed it reverently, apologetically.

His words of, "I'm so sorry," low, sincere, and unsurprising.

With a quick glance, Jor cast his eyes to the door. Clark had run home to spend time with his daughters before they turned in for the night. Apparently, Catherine and Daphne were being uncooperative, crying and carrying on in a way that had set Clark on edge, his daughters' distress the only thing capable of pulling him away from Diana's side.

But that had been nearly three hours ago. Jor expected his son any minute.

"Clark will be back soon, Billy. You shouldn't be here when he returns."

Billy Batson said nothing, just continued to hold Diana's hand and stare down at her, his heart in his eyes. The young man would do well to learn how to school his features and protect his heart. _Like you have? And where has that gotten you?_

"It's my fault. I'm so damn sorry. So. Sorry. I should've been there to protect you. I should've . . ." Billy trailed off, murmuring words Jor couldn't hear, didn't want to hear.

He'd said his own litany of pathetic apologies to his dying daughter-in-law, confessing his sins but unable to purge his heart of grief and blame.

Jor joined Billy, standing on the opposite side of Diana's bed. Like the Wayne security guard, Jor picked up Diana's hand and cradled it in his own. Cold and green, Diana looked like nothing short of a woman too close to death. _All because of me. All because of what I created to rid Krypton of a vicious dictator and his duplicitous soldiers._

He stroked the hand, soft and supple and not nearly as delicate as it felt. Diana, the woman his son loved and adored, was a warrior, a fighter. If anyone had a chance of beating this, of holding on while he and Clark retrieved the antidote from Krypton, it would be Diana Kent. But they would have to depart soon, no matter how strong and fierce she may be. No one survived kryptonite poisoning without a specific intervention. That was what made the virus so effective, and what had gained Krypton its freedom from the Zod regime.

Jor raised his head, noticing that Billy hadn't released Diana from his heated gaze. And then, almost robotically, he lowered her hand to the bed. Lifting the hand Jor couldn't see, Billy placed a five-pedal flower on Diana's pillow, next to her head.

Then, without a word or glance his way, Billy Batson stepped away from the bed, turned, and left.

Jor stared at Billy's retreating back until the door closed, then he shifted his eyes to the young man's parting gift.

_A Pearl Blossom._ The white flower bloomed in early spring, and here it was mid-autumn. Where Billy had gotten the flower from, Jor couldn't imagine. But he understood the man's selection, would've done the same if he'd thought of it.

_Renewal. Hope. Health. _

All the things he wished for Diana, the sentiment displayed so beautifully beside her raven tresses.

_Renewal. Hope. Health. _Yes, yet spring flowers and well-wishes wouldn't make it so. Unlike Billy Batson, Jor had no intention of turning and walking away.

* * *

**Metropolis, Lane Residence**

**Two Days Ago . . .**

"How long, Daddy?"

Clark kissed C.J.'s cheek, then urged him under the covers. Lois smiled, remembering so many times she'd seen Clark tuck their son in for the night. He used to do it daily when they were married. Now, however, Clark's daughters were the recipients of such sweet, fatherly attention while C.J. was relegated to the margins.

Lois chastised herself. She wasn't being fair to Clark. He was a good father and hadn't cast his son aside when the twins had come along. Still, Clark didn't see his son everyday as he did his daughters. Nor was Clark there to wipe away C.J.'s tears when he awoke from a bad dream, screaming into the darkness. Or worse, when he didn't scream at all but simply dragged his weary, tiny body from his bed and crawled into Lois's, thin arms wrapping around her, wet face buried against her side. Those nights, C.J. may have sought her out but he preferred the strength of his father.

And that was the harsh reality of divorce, no matter how diligent and well intentioned the non-custodial parent, the child, in some respects, was left behind. Unfortunately, C.J. was not an exception, despite Clark's exceptional efforts to blend his two families.

"Hopefully not too long, sport. Krypton may seem far away but I'll be back before you know it."

C.J. gave his father a dubious look, seeming to mull over Clark's words and sincerity. After a moment, the child smiled saying, "Cat and Dee's birthday is in two weeks. You have to be back for that, Daddy."

Clark nodded, his face suddenly drained of color. Lois wondered, with the tragic turn his life had taken, if he'd forgotten his daughters' first birthday or if their son had innocently reminded him of all Clark would lose if his trip wasn't successful. _A funeral instead of a birthday party._

Lois gulped. She didn't want to think about Diana dying. She didn't want to ponder the ramifications on Clark. When he'd called and asked to visit tonight, it had been the first time they'd spoken since Diana's kidnapping. He had no harsh words for her, but neither had he apologized for, basically, blaming Lois for his wife's kidnapping.

Even without the apology, no way would she refuse him a visit with his son. It was then, after he'd arrived, that Clark had shared news of Diana's rescue and current health crisis. He and Jor were set to fly out tomorrow. _To a war-torn country. _

Lois hated the idea of Clark going to Krypton. She'd followed the news. Hell, she still had a few news contacts, embedded reporters who'd gone in and hadn't come out.

She shuddered, standing fully instead of having her shoulder propped against the open door.

"Maybe I can visit Mommy Diana while you're gone. If she's feeling better, I can visit."

C.J.'s earnest eyes watched his father, whose own eyes flickered with pain and fatigue.

"I asked Mommy if I could call, but she said I should wait until Mommy Diana is feeling better. Is she feeling better? May I visit?"

Clark ran a trembling hand through his son's black hair, pushing a wayward lock out of C.J.'s face.

"I'm sure Mommy Diana would love to talk to you, sport, but she's still sick. As soon as she's feeling better, you'll be the first person she'll want to see."

C.J grinned, full-tooth and satisfied. "She says I'm her big helper."

"You are. You're very good with your sisters. Diana always appreciates your help with the girls."

"She kisses my forehead when I do a good job." C.J. thought for a minute, his face wrinkling in confusion. "She also kisses my forehead when I mess up." He shrugged. "I don't get it."

"Mommy Diana loves you no matter what you do," Clark said, a smile gracing his lips.

That single smile sent a stab of pain through Lois. Most days, she could forget how much of a mistake it had been to marry Clark Kent, how stupid it had been for her to give her heart to a man who could never and would never do the same. And hadn't she known before they married that there was someone else?

If she were honest, she would admit that she'd known that Clark hadn't completely gotten over Diana Prince. She had not only known but had thought so highly of herself and her love for Clark that Lois had convinced herself that she could, if given time, conquer his heart.

She'd tried.

She'd failed.

Yet a part of Lois, a small, fickle speck of her heart still loved the big lug from Smallville. And not even dating or having amazing, wicked sex with a man a decade her junior had managed to extricate Clark from her foolish heart.

Of course nothing would come of such one-sided feelings, but that did nothing to squelch the ache that erupted at the oddest of times. Like now, when Clark's smile revealed the wealth of love he had for his wife, a smile that held a chasm of unspoken words and emotions, a smile he'd never worn while thinking of Lois.

Clark pulled C.J.'s Transformers covers up to his shoulders, and then kissed his cheek again. "Be a good boy for your mother."

Clark stood.

"I will. I promise."

"That's my boy. Love you."

"Love you more."

Lois smiled. Despite his small size and deceptively timid demeanor, Clark Kent Jr. liked having the last word.

His father smiled, allowing C.J. to have just that.

Clicking on C.J.'s nightlight, Clark walked away from their son's bed and to the door where Lois hovered. With a final glance at their son, Clark slid around Lois.

Pulling the door a few inches but not closing it completely, Lois, too, took one last look at her son, mouthing a "Good night," to him before following Clark down the stairs.

Working his way into a red-and-blue jacket, Clark waited for Lois in the foyer near the front door.

"I'll call you when I reach Krypton."

Standing on the last step, Lois was nearly as tall as Clark. But being on his level wasn't the same as being in his head. The man held far too much inside. That hadn't changed since their divorce. But, in many ways, being married to Diana had altered Clark. He was more open and self-assured, happy in a way he'd never been with Lois, not even in the beginning when things were still good between them. Now, well, now the man had retreated once more behind his protective tortoise shell.

"Don't go," she blurted.

Clark blinked at her, his blue eyes fixed on Lois, as if seeing her for the first time tonight.

"I have to go. I explained. You know what's at risk if I don't."

Yeah, she did.

"You could be killed, Clark. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

He said nothing, just kept staring at her, eyes no longer blinking.

"Bombings and shootings, that's what's happening over there. It's dangerous. It's not safe. You shouldn't go."

He shook his head, as if he were trying to shake away the truth of her words. Lois kept going, taking the small advantage he'd given her to press her point.

"C.J. needs a father, Clark. If something happens to you, what will our son do?"

Blue eyes turned frosty, his focus now a glare. Lois moved one step up, placing more room between herself and Clark, knowing her strategy had just backfired.

"And Catherine and Daphne need a mother," he spat.

True, but— "And what will happen to them if you're killed before getting the antidote? They'll lose you both. Is that what you want, for your daughters to grow up without either parent?"

If Clark's eyes could freeze her mouth shut, Lois was sure she'd be an icicle by now.

"And what," he began, voice marble hard, "do you suggest I do, let my wife die without even trying to help her?"

"No, well—"

"Is that the kind of man you think I am? Do you think I want to leave my son and daughters, Lois?" Clark's voice, pitched low and deadly, was worse than if he'd yelled at her. "Don't you think I know by going to Krypton that I'll be courting danger? Do you not know me well enough to know that I'd only leave my children for a damn important reason?"

"Diana," she whispered, that damn stab of jealousy poking her once more.

"If she dies because I was too afraid to try, I'd never forgive myself."

Lois saw how this was going, and knew she should shut the hell up before she ruined their friendship. But Clark wasn't thinking clearly, and if he went to that wretched homeland of his, he would likely get himself and his father killed._ And C.J. would be destroyed. _

She had one final card to play.

Lois moved down one step, squaring off against her ex-husband.

"What of Diana?"

"I'm doing this for her."

"Not that, Clark. What would Diana have to say about you risking your life to save hers? Would she want you to do it if it meant there was a chance that her daughters would be left without a mother _and a father_?"

Clark's eyes narrowed to unforgivable slits.

Lois had made her point. But at what cost?

Clark didn't answer, he did, however, stalk away from Lois, slamming the door when he left her house.

Lois' knees buckled and she dropped her bottom on the step. She'd rolled the dice and lost. Clark would go to Krypton, because a man like him could do nothing less for the woman he loved, even if that woman wouldn't want him to. More importantly, however, was the one fact Lois had forgotten when she'd challenged her former husband. Clark would go to Krypton for Diana because, if the tables were reversed, Diana Kent would go to Hell and back in order to save her husband.

Sliding her cell from her pants pocket, Lois dialed Billy and hoped, this time, he would answer. She really needed to talk to him, to see how he was doing. The fact that he hadn't called, visited, or returned her phone calls, was surprisingly hurtful.

The phone rang several times before tossing Lois into voicemail. Hitting the End button, Lois didn't bother leaving yet another message.

Like Clark, she'd lost Billy to Diana as well.

* * *

**Metropolis, Kent Residence**

**One Day Ago . . .**

Clark glanced down at the black, rolling suitcase. Alfred, at no urging from Clark, had packed for him saying, "You'll find everything you'll need in the suitcase, Master Kent."

Clark had never been so grateful for the stiffly competent Brit in all the time he'd lived with Clark and Diana than he'd been since Diana's kidnapping and hospitalization. Alfred had simply taken over, running the household as if nothing was amiss, keeping Clark sane and the girls fed, washed, and clothed.

If Alfred Pennyworth actually worked for Diana and Clark, he would give the man a raise. As it was, Alfred was about to be left to contend with weepy twins, three worried mothers, and a depressed Kara.

Clark's gaze traveled from his bag and fell on Diana. She lay in their marital bed. He'd taken her from the hospital yesterday, unable to leave her there a moment longer. The doctors could do nothing for her, and, according to Jor, she wasn't contagious. So, Clark had dressed her in warm clothes, lifted Diana into his arms, and simply walked out with her.

Hippolyta, bless her, had been the only one to understand Clark's need to get Diana away from the hospital and home where she belonged. Hippolyta, a woman he'd once detested, had turned out to be more loving and kind than Clark had ever given her credit for being. She stood by his side when he'd stared down the doctor and two security guards who thought to keep him from taking his wife home. He'd had to say nothing, for Hippolyta had pulled the good doctor aside.

By the time she'd finished, the doctor was nodding and the security guards silently parted, letting him pass.

Diana appeared more like herself now that she was home, in her own nightclothes and snuggled securely in their bed. And if she weren't green from the virus, Clark would've thought her peacefully sleeping instead of unconscious from kryptonite poisoning.

He wanted to crawl into bed beside her and to never let her go. But he fought the urge, knowing if he held her, he might not have the strength to do what must be done. Jor had yet to tell Clark what he needed to know, but once on the plane, Clark would make sure Jor spilled all.

Clark was also tempted to sneak another peek at Catherine and Daphne. It had taken him nearly two hours to calm them enough for the girls to fall asleep. The last couple of days had been hard on them, missing and crying for their mother. But Hippolyta's presence had made all the difference. She wasn't their mother, but she was enough like Diana that the girls visibly relaxed when she was with them. Better yet, once she sang to them, the way Diana did each night, the twins had settled into a contented slumber. But Hippolyta was no Diana, and they all knew that. While not an ideal plan, to save Diana, Clark and Jor had to travel to Krypton.

Although she would likely never read the letter, Clark moved to Diana's nightstand. He opened the drawer, knowing her to keep several legal pads there. Grabbing one, he sat beside his wife and penned her a letter. Once done, he tore the paper from the pad, folded it in half, wrote her name on it, and placed it on the nightstand in front of a framed wedding picture of them. The picture was one of Clark's favorites, him kissing Diana senseless after he removed her white garter in front of a room full of cheering guests.

Putting the pad back, Clark noticed another one with Diana's writing on it, the words – "Happy Anniversary" written at the top. Without thinking, Clark carefully ripped off the top two pages, folded the yellow sheets, and stuffed them into his pants pocket.

Caressing Diana's too cool cheeks, Clark leaned in and kissed his wife's lips. He loved her so much. He couldn't lose her. His heart threatened to stop beating at the disabling thought. But he wouldn't lose her, not if Clark and Jor could find Jor's old papers and reproduce the antidote.

He kissed his wife again, lingering over her unmoving lips, breathing in the fresh scent of her.

"I love you, Diana. I'll return as soon as I can."

Unable to stall any longer, Clark stood, grabbed the rolling suitcase, and left the bedroom. Lara, Hippolyta, Ma, Jor, and Kara were waiting for him downstairs. One of the Wayne Industries private planes awaited his and Jor's arrival, Manny having taken care of the arrangements, reminding Clark that the husband of billionaire Diana Kent did not fly commercial.

The four women and one man watched as Clark descended the stairs. Gratefully, the mothers and his cousin only peppered him with hugs and kisses instead of worried words and tears, although he felt both when they embraced him, the "be safe" and "good luck," in their eyes.

"Ready to go, son?"

Foolishly, Clark's eyes lifted to the top of the stairs, as if he would catch a glimpse of a smiling Diana saying, "I have faith in you, Clark, have faith in yourself." But, of course, only silence and darkness stared back at him. Yet the unspoken words hung in the space, firming Clark's resolve.

"I'm ready. Let's go."

* * *

**Somewhere over New York**

**Now . . .**

Clark sat beside his father on Diana's airplane, the burgundy leather seat insanely comfortable, which, considering the ten-hour flight, was a good thing indeed.

Jor had been deep in thought since hauling himself into Clark's truck. Clark hadn't interrupted his father's musings, needing his own time to think.

Wanting a moment of privacy, Clark excused himself and moved across the aisle. Having already pulled out the yellow sheets of paper, Clark sat before unfolding the sheets. Eyes quickly scanning, Clark read the first few lines before he realized what he was reading. _She wrote me a song._

And, from the little he'd read so far, a pretty good one at that. _Her anniversary gift to me. _Clark knew he should refold the papers, stick them back in his pocket, and pretend as if he'd never laid eyes on it, preserving her secret. But Clark was in need of Diana's advice. He missed her touch but he missed her voice even more, her words and unique way of viewing the world. And, Clark thought, eyes glued to the familiar handwriting, if he couldn't hear Diana's sweetly authoritarian voice, he would settle for words from her heart. _Her heart to mine. Her song to my soul._

As Clark read, he envisioned Diana in a flowing gold-and-white silk dress, hair piled high in a sexy coiffure, lips full and sensual as she sang for him.

_Everything I am, everything I was  
Has been elevated through the power of your love  
Everything I lost, everything I've gained  
No longer makes a difference since you changed my name  
Got my heart beating faster, I can barely catch my breath!  
Clark, your love took the pain from my chest!  
Now I look at us, parallel to the stars  
Clark, you claim my heart, you're so amazing!_

You are Amazing, when I thought that I have seen it all  
You Came and shown me I haven't seen nothing  
You are amazing  
When my back was up against the wall  
It was you that hit the restart button  
Took me to a better place, showed me some better way  
How I should be living my life each and every day  
Been through so much, never thought that you would exist  
But haven't no one ever made me feel like this!  
You are amazing!

_Everywhere I've been, everything I've done  
All the money pales in comparison to the compassion you show me  
Every time that you hold me  
And when I'm in your arms, I can do anything for you  
Got my heart beating faster, I can barely catch my breath!  
Clark, your love took the pain from my chest!  
Now I look at us, parallel to the stars  
Clark, you claim my heart, you're so amazing! _

_You are Amazing, when I thought that I have seen it all  
You never left my sight  
I was lost, but you found me and saved my life  
I could have died, no love inside  
Before you I was done inside  
But you made me feel again  
Clark, I swear you are amazing!  
You are amazing _

_When I thought that I have seen it all  
You Came and shown me I haven't seen nothing  
You are amazing  
When my back was up against the wall  
It was you that hit the restart button  
Took me to a better place, showed me some better way  
How I should be living my life each and every day  
Been through so much, never thought that you would exist  
And no one made me feel like this! _

_You are amazing!  
Gave me a new life when you made me your wife  
Yes you did!  
And I love, love, love you  
Is nothing I would not do for you..._

Swiping the warm tears from his eyes, Clark gazed at the checkered landscape below. He wasn't the one who was amazing, that distinction belonged to his wife. But he _would _save Diana, be the hero that lived deep within the farm boy from Kansas, the dragon to her precious gold.

Returning to his seat beside Jor, Clark said, "Tell me everything, Dad, and leave nothing out. I want to know what I'm in for before we reach Krypton."

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED**

* * *

**Author's Note: "Amazing" by Monica**


	11. Chapter 11: What Is Past Is Prologue

**Chapter 11: What Is Past Is Prologue**

**Oklahoma City, Oklahoma**

**Thirty Years Ago . . .**

They'd driven for days, stopping only for gas, food, and bathroom breaks. Miles of long roads and even longer silences, the rise of the moon and the setting of the sun marking the time between Lara and Jor and the child they'd been forced to leave one state away. Jor tried to force the image of a red-faced and sobbing Kal from his mind. The one he knew would haunt him for the rest of his days. The fact that Jor and Lara had done what was best for their son was of little solace to the father Jor had once been.

But he was a father no more, having given up that right when he'd abandoned his sweet Kal El.

Jor, mentally and physically exhausted, opened the door to the motel room he'd rented. Lara would likely go mad if Jor forced her to sleep another night in the car by the side of some unknown highway. Sure, his wife hadn't complained. That was her way. But she also hadn't said more than ten words to him since they'd left Kal and Kansas.

Holding the door for his wife, Jor waited for Lara to enter before following her, making sure to lock the door afterward.

The room, as he'd expected, was nothing special. A double bed, two lamps, a nightstand, dresser, brown-and-blue lined wallpaper, and dark-brown carpet marked the motel as cheap and serviceable but—thankfully— clean. The closed wooden door opposite the front door Jor still stood in front of, was, he assumed, the bathroom.

Like so many other pit stops they'd made since going on the run, this room was yet another reminder of all Lara and Jor had been forced to endure and give up since General Zod's men had found their trail. How that had happened, Jor did not know. Not that it really mattered, but the thought that Zod had gone to such lengths to find them was a scary price Jor had prayed his family would never have to pay.

And what price was steeper than leaving one's own son at an orphanage to be raised by strangers? None Jor knew of, not even death, which would've been preferable than not knowing if he and Lara had just sentenced Kal to a fate worse than death. He hoped . . . he fervently prayed that a kind family would come along, see how special Kal was and care for his son, loving him as much as Jor and Lara did.

"I'm going to take a bath." The words, spoken low and without feeling, stung as if Lara had slapped him. She hadn't even turned to face him. Instead, she said them as she rummaged through one of her bags, pulling out a change of clothing and toiletries. Then she was in the bathroom, door closed with a soft _click _that thudded through Jor for all the pain it held at bay.

Dropping the bags he carried, Jor slumped against the wall. Then, because his legs would hold him no longer, slid down it, and before his backside hit the carpet, Jor was already crying. Unbidden, the tears flowed, a silent deluge of pain and frustration.

He'd failed his family. He'd foolishly thought that by fleeing Krypton he could escape its tentacles. Jor had convinced Lara of this, assuring her that once they crossed the Kryptonian border they would be safe. Despite the oppressive Zod government, when Jor had proposed leaving, he understood the magnitude of what he was asking of Lara. The same as he was willing to give up—family and friends.

And Lara, Rao bless her, had never questioned Jor. Not because she was some weak, mindlessly dutiful wife, but because she loved and trusted her husband. Then, when she'd thought them free to live their lives the way they desired, she'd given them a child, a son with Jor's mouth and nose but Lara's kind and trusting disposition.

But he hadn't deserved such unfailing faith. Now, Lara's been forced—once again—to give up everything of value to her. Although, in the end, Lara's most precious possession had been her son, which, thanks to Jor and his arrogance, they'd had to let go of. The same as everyone else they'd loved and lost - Krypton their home, their heart, and their prison.

So Jor cried for the brave and stupid man he'd been, believing himself more cunning than the reach of a power-hungry dictator. He wept for Kal who would never know how much his parents loved him and how leaving him had ripped their hearts out. And Jor cried for his wife, a woman whose strength and endurance exceeded his own but whose love he cherished more than breath itself and whose sorrow he knew not how to take away.

Jor didn't know how long he sat on the bushy carpet and quietly wept for the death of his fatherhood. But by the time he lifted blood shot eyes, the sun had slipped away and his wife lay curled in the bed, black hair shiny and wet, tense back to him.

Struggling to his feet, Jor stood, feeling a sudden need to wash away the filth and grime of the last few days. Stripping as he went, Jor made his way to the bathroom and the warm shower that awaited. Strong pulses of water sluiced over him, cleansing his body but not his mind, his soul. Nothing could ever do that, he knew with a deep, disturbing ache of regret.

Clean and wearing only boxers, Jor joined his wife in bed. Eyes closed, back still to him, Lara did not sleep, this Jor knew. Lara's face, beautiful while awake, in sleep she was simply resplendent, open and awe-inspiring. But this night, like all the others since leaving Kal, her face shone with a graceless, melancholic stiffness that added worry lines where none used to be. Her breathing, while even, did not purr with the deep satisfaction that came with contented slumber

Wanting to soothe his wife but needing her comfort even more, Jor cradled Lara, wrapping too hairy legs and too desperate arms around her.

She sighed then sank into his embrace, accepting—thank Rao—Jor's loving solace.

"They'll be here come morning."

This Jor knew. They couldn't outrun them. He'd been a fool to ever think he could.

"I know." Arms tightened possessively, nose went to hair and drew in a humbling breath of fortitude. "You should take the car and money and leave. If they have me, I don't think they'll follow you."

For excruciating minutes Lara said nothing. Then she turned in his arms and caught him with a bold, furious glare. Jor was reminded, in that heated, stubborn gaze of hers, why she'd stolen his heart so many years ago and why—help them both—they'd likely die together.

"No." A single whispered word, but one forged in steel and wrapped in the wedding vows they'd never once betrayed. Why would he think Lara would begin today?

Her hand lifted to his chest, covering the heart that beat far too fast and repeated her two-word declaration.

And that was that. No discussion. No argument, just a simple word that sealed their fate.

So when the sun rose and they opened their eyes, they faced the new day together, unfazed by the four men with guns pointed at their heads, unforgiving grimaces on their faces, Kryptonian dripping from their lips.

"Treason carries the penalty of death Jor El."

The huge man smiled, broad and ugly.

For the first time in his life, Jor regretted choosing mercy over revenge. "I should have killed you when I had the chance, Non."

General Dru Zod's right hand man and pit bull nodded. "You should have at that."

* * *

**Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean**

**Now . . .**

Open-mouthed, Clark stared at his father. The story he'd just told him was almost too much to believe. If it hadn't been too-serious Jor relaying the story, Clark may have doubted its authenticity. But his father, while not a man given to full disclosure, was also a man not known to exaggerate or lie.

Clark closed his mouth, realizing how long he'd been staring at his father like a fish out of water, moving his lips but making no sound.

He'd known from their previous discussions that Jor and Lara had left Clark at the orphanage because the Krypton Secret Police had managed to track the Els down. They had also told Clark that they'd decided it would be best to return to Krypton instead of running for the rest of their lives. He hadn't understood why they would've made such a decision, why they would give him up and sacrifice their own freedom just to return to some backwater of a country where civil and human rights were just words in a textbook.

Now, well, now he understood. They hadn't returned willingly, they'd been, literally, forced by gunpoint.

Sitting on the edge of his seat, Clark grappled to wrap his mind around this new news. How a few facts could change one's outlook on a history they thought they comprehended so clearly. He'd believed his parents when they'd first confessed the reason they had given him up. Clark had accepted the story, even, with time, forgiving them. Yet, now knowing the full story made everything click for Clark.

_They feared for their lives . . . and mine. _Their leaving him alone had never been simply about not wanting to return to Krypton and an oppressive existence, although that was bad enough. It had been about love and a parent's sacrifice. This Clark, the father, could wholeheartedly understand. There would be nothing he wouldn't do to protect his children. And if that meant turning them over to someone else to love and raise, while it would be the hardest thing he'd ever have to do, Clark would do it. He would break his heart and theirs, if it meant saving their lives from the likes of someone like this Non person.

"After Lara and I dressed, Non and his men huddled us into a van. Two days later, we were back on Kryptonian soul, accused of treason." Jor breathed deeply, his eyes on Clark. But there was a dark haze to his focus that told Clark his father was seeing the past as much as he was seeing him.

That bomb had Clark sitting back in his seat. When he'd met his parents, they'd been retired scientists who lived in an upscale Argo City neighborhood with a perfectly manicured lawn, pleasant neighbors, and a spotless, as far as he knew, reputation. _But they'd been tried for treason. I guess not such a spotless reputation after all._

"What happened, Dad? Were you and Mom found guilty?"

"We were guilty the day I attacked Non, General Zod's second-in-command. The bastard thought because he was in charge of the Krypton Investigative Services Division, where your mother and I worked, that such rank and privilege extended to the females. Scientists, secretaries, lab assistants, custodians, Non didn't care. No woman, as far as he was concerned, was off limits."

Clark gritted his teeth, sensing where this part of the story was going. "Did he . . . did he attack Mom?" Clark couldn't bring himself to use the word _rape_. But it dangled in the air between the men, the same as it had when Jor had stared at Diana's unconscious body when Clark had pulled her from the house where she'd been left for dead. Their eyes had met, and Clark had seen the same question in his father eyes that had been ghosting through Clark's mind. Thankfully, luckily, Diana had escaped that particular horrific fate. _Had Mom?_

Jor's eyes snapped in anger then narrowed. "One day Non cornered Lara in our lab. I was holed up researching something I can no longer recall. I left her, telling Lara I would return in an hour to two." Jor snorted. "Having gotten lost in my reading, I was gone much longer. When I returned, that freak of nature had Lara pinned to the floor . . ."

Jor closed his eyes, anguish flooding his pale face.

Clark balled fists itching to seek revenge on his mother's behalf.

"He didn't . . . he didn't get the chance, but it was a near thing. In my rage, I grabbed the first thing I could find, which was an electronic balance. I smashed it over his head. He fell off Lara. I hit him again. And again. And again. I wanted to kill the bastard. I wanted to keep hitting him until he couldn't hurt anyone else. I wanted . . . but seeing your mother, her eyes wide in horror as Non's blood splattered on the floor, on me, on her, I knew I couldn't do it. Not because I didn't have it in me to rid the world of such a vile, coldhearted beast, but because I didn't want my wife to view me as a murderer, even one who killed in defense of the woman he loved. So I dropped the balance, grabbed my wife, and got the hell out of there."

Knowing his mother hadn't been ravaged, Clark began to breathe easier. Then his thoughts wandered to his own wife and what he would do if he ever had the men who'd kidnapped and hurt her in his sights, at his mercy the way Jor had Non. Until that day he'd watched Diana fight for her life, terror and ferocity in her dark blue orbs, Clark had never tasted the frightening desire to rip a man's heart out with his bare hands. He'd, like his father so many years ago, had wanted to kill to protect his wife, his woman. Barbaric? Maybe, but that thought changed little for a man in the throes of a protective rage.

"What happened next?"

"Your mother and I had already talked about fleeing Krypton. We'd been slowly making plans, taking small amounts of money out of the bank. Not enough to raise red flags, you know? But, over time, the withdrawals added up to a nice sum. With a little help from a few people, we managed to slip away that night. When we'd left the lab, I'd closed and locked the door, sure no one would find the unconscious and bleeding Non until the next morning. That gave us a halfway decent head start. By morning, Lara and I were out of Argo City."

"Where did you go?"

"To the home of another scientist. A friend of your Uncle Zor. We stayed with him a few days before moving on. Eventually, we made it across the border and into the Soviet Union . . . Russia. And after that, with fake passports, we traveled to Cuba and finally to the United States."

All dangerous and illegal, Clark concluded. It couldn't have been easy, no matter how steadily his father had just described his and Lara's great escape. But that still didn't explain what happened to them once they were forcefully taken back to Krypton.

"So what about the charge of treason?"

"Like I said, as soon as I attacked Non, there was no going back, no way to undo what I'd done. We were found guilty and sentenced to life in prison."

Clark was back on the edge of his seat. "You were _what_? That can't be right. If was self-defense, for god's sake." And what of the asshole who'd tried to rape his mother? Had that meant nothing to the courts? Was there even a trial?

Jor reached for a bottle of water, taking a long drink before continuing. "General Zod didn't really want us imprisoned. Sure, he used us to make a point, to show the country that no one was above his law or beyond his reach. Two months into our sentence, we were brought to his office."

"What in the hell did he want?"

"The same as all military men. More power. Better weapons."

Clark tensed, then began shaking his head. "You gave the megalomaniac kryptonite in exchange for your and Mom's freedom." It wasn't a question. The shameful truth was there, in the way Jor barely held Clark's gaze.

"If it were just me, Kal . . . Clark, I would've refused to help him. But it wasn't just me. There was your mother to consider. Because of me, she'd already lost you. I couldn't also be the reason why she spent decades in prison, or worse, died there due to abuse and mistreatment. And then there was Non, she would've been at his cruel mercy if she'd stayed in prison."

"So you agreed to create . . . a what? What exactly is kryptonite, anyway?"

"Today, I guess you would call it a biological weapon. Better than anything that had come out of the United States and Russia during the Cold War. It was the ultimate way to punish your enemies and to control your populace."

As much as Clark hated everything his father had just said, in truth, it made an odd kind of sense. Jor El, by nature, was not a violent or immoral man. But he was a man who, when pushed against the wall, did what he felt was best to protect those he loved, even when those decisions had far-reaching ramifications for so many others.

"So explain one thing to me, Dad. If you created the virus or disease or whatever in the hell you want to call it, why can't you recreate the antidote? Why do we have to travel to damn Krypton?"

Jor downed more of his water, putting the glass back in the seat cup holder when he was done. "For two reasons, son. As I told you before, I haven't thought about that formula in three decades. My memory is not what it once was. I'm sure, given time—a month or two— I could recreate the antidote. But, hell, we both know Diana doesn't have a month or two."

Unfortunately, this was true. "What's the second reason?"

"Without a doubt it's kryptonite exposure, but I'm not positive if Diana was given exactly what I created. Like I said, it's been thirty years, time enough for some other scientist to have made changes to the original design. Even if my memory was perfect and I recreated the antidote, it would've been a risk to give it to her. I could've made her condition worse."

The only thing worse than Diana's current condition would be death; Clark grasped what his father was telling him. Yet there had to be more to the story.

"So if you gave this Zod jerk what he wanted, why, after all these years, did he send his men after my wife?"

Pausing, Jor gazed out of the window, the sky foggy and dark, like his parents' past.

"Because," Jor began, turning back to Clark, "I used the kryptonite against his soldiers. With the help of Lara and another scientist assigned to work with us, we slowly began to infect them, slipping the toxin into the physical enhancement pills Zod made them all take. It was a small thing to do. The pills were also created in the same building, just two floors up from our lab. We simply switched out the correct pills with the false ones. We did it in small doses and over different time periods, as to not arouse suspicion with too many soldiers getting sick at the same time. But, after three months, fifty percent of Zod's soldiers were either in the hospital or dead. Six-weeks after that, another twenty-five percent of his soldiers were gone. With little to protect him from the people he'd held down with his boot, seeing their opportunity to oust Zod, Kryptonians stormed his palace. A year later, the Kryptonian High Council had been reinstated."

Clark had no idea what in the world the Kryptonian High Council was, but, he assumed, it was some sort of governing body. He vaguely remembered Kara once telling him that the Els, among other respected families, had once sat on a Council and collaboratively ruled Krypton. A House of Lords, of sorts, without a House of Commons, yet it was the military who protected the country and the Council members.

"Who heads the Council? Is it the President of Krypton?" That would make the most sense to Clark. He couldn't imagine the president of a country sharing power with the head of the High Council."

"Yes, they are one in the same." Jor touched Clark's shoulder. "One thing you should know Clark, the president is also the same man who helped me bring down Zod."

"Are you saying the third scientist who helped create kryptonite is the President of Krypton and head of the High Council?"

"Yes. That's why we're going there. If anyone can help Diana, it's H'el."

* * *

**TO BE CONTINED**


	12. Chapter 12: Mars and Venus

**Chapter 12: Mars and Venus **

**Krypton, Argo City**

**Forty Years Ago . . .**

Dru Zod refused to cower before the white robed men and women of the High Council. He stood, legs shoulder length apart, back firm, and eyes cast up at the dais of Krypton's rulers. What a joke they were, daring to question him as if he hadn't earned the rank of General of Krypton's Military Guild by age twenty-two for nothing. Now, five years later, nine sets of hostile and disapproving gazes fell on him.

"What say you, general?"

Zod didn't bother to hide his scorn at being summoned before the Council with no notice or consideration for the fact that his wife had just blessed him with a son a mere week ago. He should be with them now instead of in the luxurious chamber designed for the spoiled and undeserving. The High Council had no clue what it took to protect all that they held so dear. They thought their family breeding entitled them to deference and blind respect. For most citizens it did, which was why they sat on the Council, claiming a position through nothing more than birthright.

And the High Councillor, Kal El, who'd just questioned him, was the worst of them all. He and his wife both, serving only because their fathers had before them and grandfathers before that and so on as far back as the records chronicled. The Els, he thought with unconcealed loathing, so superior in their thinking, so god damn high in the instep that they thought they knew more about military and warfare than Zod.

"I ask again, Zod, what say you of the charges leveled against Beta Squad and its leader Non Ou?"

"What I say is what I've said for the last year, we must strike aggressively at the Soviets lest we one day awake to find Krypton part of their Union. That will not happen during my watch. Krypton will never become a part of their Eastern Bloc."

"Yes, yes, we are all quite aware of your position toward the Soviets, general," El said, waving a geriatric hand in dismissal. "We are not so blind as to fail to recognize the delicate situation Krypton finds herself. But, as we all know, Krypton has always been a free and independent country and we will continue to be one."

"And do you think such freedom and independence is so easily maintained, High Councillor?"

Kal El, hair nearly completely white, hardened his gaze. The man was never one to be contradicted, expecting nothing less than absolute obedience from his "inferiors." _Too damn bad._

"Easy or no, it is your job to do exactly that, general."

"And that's what I've been doing, High Councillor."

"Maintaining our freedom and independence, General Zod," another Council member began, "does not include an attack on a neighborhood of Soviet expatriates. We are not mistaken that that is precisely what Beta Squad did two days ago. Will you dare to stand before us and claim otherwise?"

Zod was a man who claimed much, but he wasn't one to back away from a decision he'd made for the good of the citizens of Krypton.

"They were spies."

The High Councillor flipped through papers in front of him, looking, Zod knew, for reports of spy activity. El would find no reports. He knew this as well as the Councillor, for Zod had filed none with the High Council. Kal El, forever the pompous ruler, was making a point about hierarchy and chain-of-command.

"I apologize, Zod, I must have misplaced the report of the Soviet immigrants spy activities. When did you submit it?"

A couple of the Council members smirked, including El's wife, who, he supposed, was probably once a very beautiful woman before wrinkles and a snobbish glower had set in.

"I didn't," came his snarled response. "It wasn't necessary. They were Soviets living in a country not their own, what other reason would they be here but to spy on us?"

"And that," the High Councillor said with a shake of his imperious head, "is why the Guild fights and the Council take care of the thinking. Brawn and might is not everything, General Zod. Nativist beliefs are not reason enough to justify the slaughter of dozens of innocent people. Soviet expatriates or not, Beta Squad murdered men, women, and children who were guilty of nothing more than not being Kryptonian."

"They were Soviet spies, sleeper agents sent to lull us into a false sense of security. And you all obviously bought into their sad story or else they wouldn't have been allowed to live among us."

"Fifteen children, Zod, ages two months to seventeen years. _Dead._ Were they agents as well, deserving of the killing bullet to the brain Beta Squad delivered?"

"Executions."

"Pointless deaths."

"Unforgivable crimes."

The Council members continued, skewering him with judgment after pitiless judgment, too blind to see how Non and his squad had spared Krypton. Why could the fools not see?

"The Soviets will want someone to answer for the crimes against their people." The comment came from Kal El, a man who shouldn't give a damn about what the Soviets wanted.

"And who will answer for sending those spies into our midst, High Councillor? Better yet, who will answer for approving their stay within our borders in the first place?"

"You overstep, Zod," the High Councillor boomed. "You and your soldiers do not dictate policy. You do not, because we've given you weapons of war, have the authority to use them as you see fit without permission from this Council." Kal El rose, his bushy white eyebrows arching with righteous indignation. "And you will not hide behind anti-Soviet sentiment to justify the killing of one hundred and six people."

The High Councillor snapped his fingers and eight Council guards converged on Zod, surrounding him.

"Please take Dru Zod into custody."

With a rough quickness so much the Kryptonian military trademark, Zod mercilessly found his wrists and legs shackled.

"You can't do this. I'm General Dru Zod of the Military Guild. I'm—"

"Held over until we fully investigate the events of two nights' past." Kal El reclaimed his seat, but his features and voice were just as hard, just as unyielding. "You will find yourself in the company of your men, for the men and women of Beta Squad have already been detained and taken to the Phantom Zone."

Zod flinched. The Phantom Zone had been his idea, a fortress of a prison for the worst criminals in Krypton. _Now I'm to be warehoused there? Like some common, worthless criminal? _

"You can't. I've done nothing wrong," he yelled, spittle flying. "You're a bunch of Soviet ass kissing idiots, pandering to a country too weak to prevent a German invasion." He struggled when the Council guards began to haul him away. "My father and soldiers like those of the Beta Squad are what pushed back Hitler, keeping Krypton safe from Nazi rule. And now you dare to imprison his son, Kal El? You dare to put this great nation of ours in jeopardy because you lack the balls and fortitude to stand up against the Reds?"

The closing of the massive granite doors swallowed his last words as the guards carried him from the Council chamber.

By the time Zod reached the end of the long hallway, he was smiling – wide and malicious. Then the _pop, pop, pop_ came. Eight in total. Rough hands fell away until Zod stood alone in the center of an Alpha Squad warzone.

He raised his arms. "Get these damn shackles off me, Faora."

The lieutenant wasted no time following orders. That's what Zod liked about Faora Ui. She followed orders like the exceptional soldier she was, but better, she was one cold, ruthless bitch who would sooner put a bullet in every Council member's head than allow them to turn Krypton over to the Soviet threat.

The sturdy weight of the cool gun she'd handed to Zod felt perfect in his hand. With a silent gesture to Faora's squad, they slithered like the vipers they were down the hallway and back to the Council chamber.

Once outside the closed doors, Zod whispered to Faora, "Are you ready to dethrone the king and his minions, ushering in a new era for Krypton?"

Her curt answering nod brought a smile to his lips. With Faora and Non by his side, Zod would rule Krypton the way the High Council never had.

Swinging the imposing doors open, Faora's Alpha Squad swarmed inside.

_Pop, pop, pop_ preceded Zod's entrance.

_Pop, pop, pop, pop. _

Seven down two to go.

And there they sat, next to each other, staring down at Zod with hatred instead of the fear he'd expected, the fear he'd wanted to see.

Raising his arm, pistol in hand, Zod said to Kal El and his wife, "Krypton will be better off without you and your high and mighty Council. You must see that, you must see that my Guild is all that stands between us and the rest of the world."

The Els didn't speak, nor did they recoil from his words or the threat therein. So Zod pulled the trigger and stained Lady El's forehead with red. The High Councillor, Kal El, reacted then, catching his wife's lifeless body and holding her to him.

Then he raised watery eyes to Zod, that damn El pride and arrogance burning even brighter.

"Do your worst. But know this, one day an El will defeat you, see you dead, monster."

_Pop._

Silence.

All hail the king is dead.

General Zod turned to Faora and the Alpha Squad.

"As High Councillor, my first official order is to see to the release of Non and his Beta Squad. My second order," he pointed to the bloody dais behind him, "is to have this mess cleaned up. Make sure it's done before I return in the morning."

With that, he shoved the gun in the waistband of his pants and walked out of the chamber, whistling a merry tune and thinking of his wife Ursa and their newborn son Lor.

* * *

**Metropolis, Kent Residence**

**Now . . .**

By the time Lara El finished, Hippolyta's head ached. There were questions she could pose, ones that had come to her mind as the woman had shared old family history. The political intrigue alone was juicy enough for a bestselling novel. Maybe Clark would one day write it all down. Yet, as she looked at Lara, who sat in a loveseat across from where Hippolyta and Martha sat, Kara standing near the fireplace, all Hippolyta could think about was how much she wanted to hate and blame Lara.

Surely, if not for the Els, Diana wouldn't be upstairs fighting for her life. She hadn't asked to be attacked and poisoned by a group of madmen out for revenge against the Els. But this woman, whose smile reminded Hippolyta so much of Daphne's, had sacrificed motherhood in order to protect her son. Lara had shared that wretched bit of history with them as well, Martha and Kara well aware of most of it.

Hippolyta could understand and respect such a decision. Diana and Donna were her world, as were Catherine and Daphne Diana's. To feel forced to give your child away would break most women, but it hadn't broken Lara El. Although, from the way she trembled when she'd told the story, Hippolyta knew it had taken all of the woman's inner strength for it not to do exactly that.

But understanding and respect did not mean Hippolyta had to give Lara El a pass. Clark and Jor may have left on a mission to Krypton, but Lara was still here, and she could do something productive, dammit.

"You're a scientist," Hippolyta said, ending the silence that had descended over the room after Lara had finished speaking.

"Retired, but yes."

"I'll contact Victor Stone in the morning and the two of you can begin then."

Lara's eyes squinted in confusion. "What? Begin what?"

"What is there not to understand? You're a scientist. You helped to create the poison that's killing my eldest daughter as well as the antidote than can save her. What else is there for me to say? You'll have access to a chemistry lab; Vic will make sure of it and assist, if need be."

"No. I can't." Adamant, Lara shook her head.

"Yes you can. You will."

"You don't understand, Hippolyta. I don't think I can. I could make it worse, kill Diana."

"She's dying!" Kara, Lara, and Martha lowered their eyes, as if not looking at Hippolyta would make her statement any less true. "You've told us plenty this night, but not all, not hardly. And I don't even want to know what else you are hiding, but I've been around too long to not know when someone is pulling strings."

"What do you mean 'strings'?" Kara asked, moving to sit beside her aunt.

"I mean there are too many known as well as unknown variables, players and motivations both seen and invisible. And it's the invisible ones that most scare me. I know Clark and Jor will do their best to get Diana the antidote she requires, but my gut tells me the task won't be nearly as simple as they think."

"Do you think they're in danger?"

"I do, Martha. Like I said, it's a gut feeling, but I've learned to trust my instincts."

"I don't disagree with anything that you've said." Lara scooted to the edge of the loveseat, arm poised on the armrest. "But I can't do what you ask. I won't risk Diana's life on a hastily constructed formula. I won't." Agitated, Lara stood.

Hippolyta remained seated, unperturbed by the other woman's expected reaction. However, her fear was of little concern to Hippolyta.

"You _will_ work with Vic. This isn't up for discussion, Lara. You will do your best to save my daughter."

"Don't you think I want to save Diana? She may not be my daughter by blood and I haven't known her nearly as long as Martha has, but I love her dearly. I would do anything to save her."

"Yet you refuse."

"Yes. I refuse to play a direct role in her death. I may be partially responsible for the kryptonite that now flows through her veins, but that wasn't intentional. If I give her something untested and she dies, then her death _will_ be on my hands."

"You won't kill her."

"How in the hell can you say that? How can you be so sure? Why are you willing to trust me with your daughter's life?"

_All good questions._ How could Hippolyta begin to explain her certainty that Lara was the only one who could revive Diana? No, she held no illusions of Lara having the proper time to create some miracle drug to save Diana's life. That would have to be done by Clark. But Clark was in danger. This Hippolyta knew with the same gut-level certainty. If Lara couldn't get past her fear, both Diana and Clark would die.

Hippolyta stood and faced Lara. "I'm not asking for a cure, only a medical reprieve, a temporary remission, if you will. Are you saying you can't do that?"

For long minutes, Lara considered Hippolyta's words, evidence of the strong woman Hippolyta knew her to be flickering in and out as the time ticked by.

"Well, can you Aunt Lara?"

"How good is the lab and Victor Stone?"

"Top of the line and the best."

They stared at each other, blue eyes meeting at the juncture of maternal love and protection.

"I can't promise you results. And I won't inject Diana with something I don't deem scientifically safe."

"That's all I ask."

Lara's snort didn't surprise Hippolyta.

"You ask for too much and demand even more. I don't like this idea."

"Your objection is duly noted."

"But you don't care, do you?"

"No, I don't, not when it comes to my daughter. And you shouldn't care either, Lara, because if I'm correct, the best and only person to save your husband and son is one flight up and glowing green with kryptonite poisoning. So, no, I don't want to hear what you can't do. I'm not expecting miracles just some time. That's all Diana and Clark need is a bit more time. And you can give it to them. That I have no doubt."

Lara glanced over her shoulder at her niece. "Is she always like this?"

"No, this is actually a tame version of Hippolyta Prince. Just be thankful she didn't bring Donna with her or you would've found yourself locked in a lab without food or drink until you had something to show everyone."

"Yeah," Martha chimed in, "this is her version of being tactful."

"Neither one of you are helping. Are we all in agreement? Hopefully, Clark and Jor will return by week's end with a cure and Lara's work in the lab will turn out to be nothing more than time spent with a handsome man who is engaged to my daughter. That's the dream that helps me to sleep at night. But I raised my daughters to never lie, and I believe in leading by example. I don't think they will return so soon, if at all. In which case, we don't need to waste time sitting around here doing nothing."

Like it or not, they were a team, an improbable one, but a team all the same.

Hippolyta would contact the Justice League, but not just yet. She wanted to wait for Lara to find that magic chemical formula that would awaken their Sleeping Beauty. Then, only after she'd spoken with Diana, would further action be taken.

Diana would ultimately be the one to decide next steps. It was what she did best - deconstructing a problem and finding solutions. But first . . .

"Are we in agreement?"

Affirmative nods from Martha and Kara. Hippolyta arched an impatient eyebrow at Lara who, Hippolyta had to admit, didn't seem the least bit intimidated by her. _Good, because Diana needs the grit of a lioness not a weak-kneed chemist afraid of her past_ No, Lara El had balls and brains to spare, which she would need come morning.

"Agreed," she finally conceded. "I have many regrets in my life Hippolyta. I don't intend to add this to the list."

"Trust me, I have my own list. It may grow longer still, but not from this, never this."

She extended her right hand to Lara, who glanced down at it then back up to Hippolyta. Instead of shaking her hand to seal their deal, the Kryptonian reached for Hippolyta and dragged her in for a big bear of a hug. Stunned, Hippolyta could do nothing but respond in kind.

Letting her go, Lara stepped back, a pink flush of embarrassment brightening her face. "Sorry, I guess Clark has rubbed off on me more than I thought."

"Um, well, yes, Clark and Martha are quite free with their famous Kent family hugs."

In silent agreement, they returned to their seats, each in her own thoughts.

Minutes later, a soft knock sounded at the door before Alfred entered.

"Excuse my interruption, but Mr. Ui is at the front door requesting to speak with Ms. Kara. What should I tell him this time? It's his third visit."

All eyes flew to Kara.

"Tell him . . . oh, never mind. I'll get rid of Lor myself."

Hippolyta, Lara, and Martha watched the younger woman leave, her brave face not enough to mask the pain of her broken engagement and trust. Hippolyta understood all too well how a man could so easily hurt the woman he professed to love. But Lor Ui obviously wasn't ready to admit defeat.

And neither was Hippolyta Prince. She'd been through this with Diana once before and, while close, she hadn't lost her. She refused to think this time would prove to be any different.

Needing to see her daughter and speak with the nurse Clark had hired to tend her, the one condition of Diana's release from the hospital, Hippolyta got to her feet. "The lab is all ready for you. A Wayne Industries car will be here at seven sharp. Please don't keep the driver waiting. Vic will meet you in the lobby and show you to your office and the lab. Martha and I will stop by around noon for lunch."

Lara's eyes twinkled with annoyance. "Try to remember that I don't work for you, Hippolyta."

Opening the door, she smiled, enjoying Lara's spunk. Out of respect for the woman, Hippolyta bit back a cutting reply. Lara clearly understood the high stakes of her work, for both of their children. She wouldn't fail Diana, Clark, or herself.

"Good night Lara. Martha."

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	13. Chapter 13: Montagues and Capulets

**Chapter 13: Montagues and Capulets**

**Metropolis, Kent Residence**

In spite of herself, Kara couldn't help the way her heart leapt every time she was near Lor. He had betrayed her, lied to her, and manipulated his way into Clark and Diana's home, all with the intent of securing Diana's help for his own ends. And even though Kara still thought the people of Krypton needed someone like Diana to aid them, Lor's motivations ran much deeper than she'd known.

Yet now, as she stood in front of her cousin's home, door closed, security lights illuminating the front yard and driveway, as much as the man before her, Kara's heart beat that much faster, ached that much more. Lor Ui was sinfully handsome, even when sporting a remorseful frown, which he was now. Tall, dark, and handsome, he'd turned out to be the son of Dru Zod, the very man who was responsible for the murder of Krypton's High Council, personally assassinating Kara's grandparents, her Uncle Jor's mother and father. _No wonder Uncle Jor disapproved of me marrying Lor. Bringing Lor here must've brought up so many painful memories for him. I didn't know. God, how I wished I had known._

"I'm glad you agreed to speak to me this time."

"I only agreed because you wouldn't have left me alone until I did."

But he'd promised to never return if Kara spared him a few minutes. Sure, she could've called Detective Jones and allowed him to handle Lor. A part of her had been tempted to do just that. Hiding behind Jones and his badge would have been so easy, or hell, behind Alfred Pennyworth's spine of iron.

But no, Kara was no coward, as much as she had been made to play the fool. Just because her heart had yet to accept the truth, didn't mean her mind had failed to process the facts in all its deceptive glory.

Kara walked down the three steps that separated them, and then past Lor. She kept walking, away from the house and the dying woman within. Lor wasn't welcomed there, not even on the Kent's doorstep, blackening it with his lies and sad, puppy dog eyes.

As she knew he would, Lor followed, his long legs catching up to Kara in a few strides.

The neighborhood was quiet at ten at night. Single family homes populated the street where playing and laughing children abounded during the day. The community was an affluent one, to be sure, but the homes weren't extravagant. They were above average in size and surrounding land but nothing more, definitely not on the scale of the Wayne Manor where Diana had resided with her first husband Bruce.

Arms at her side, Kara strolled down the lit street, Lor distractingly close, his own arm brushing hers as they walked. She tried to ignore the jolt of pleasure his touch still evoked. _Stupid, stupid heart._

Lor cleared his throat. "I . . . umm . . . I'm glad you agreed to speak with me."

"You said that already."

"Well, umm . . . yes, I know, but I thought it worth repeating. I've missed you."

Kara had missed him as well, but he didn't deserve to know that. He didn't need to know how thoroughly he'd wrapped her around his finger that Kara still had tender feelings for him. Her weakness made Kara sick. It had only been a few days since she'd learned the truth but—_dear god_—when would she stop loving this man and set herself free?

Without missing a beat, Kara kept her pace even and steady.

So did Lor.

"I'm not the man you believe me to be."

It was the understatement of a lifetime. "I know."

"No, you don't know, Kara. You only think you do. Dammit—" he grabbed her shoulders, halting her forward progress "—just stop walking and listen."

She shoved his hands off her, but stayed where she was, facing him, eyes lifted and angry.

"After what you did, you don't get to say that you've missed me. You don't get to come to my cousin's home and disturb the peace because of your selfish desire to speak with someone who has no interest in speaking with you. And you most certainly no longer have the right to lay your hands on me."

Belatedly, Kara glanced around; pleased the street was still empty. She didn't want to embarrass Clark and Diana by making a scene in front of their neighbors.

"And you don't," Lor countered, "get to shut me out without giving me a fair chance to explain. You don't get to cancel our engagement and return my ring as if being with me despoiled you in some way. And you sure as hell don't get to judge me based on some ugliness that went down between my father and your grandparents forty god damn years ago."

Kara slapped him.

Hard.

Her palm stung, and so did her eyes, tears threatening.

Lor turned his head, giving Kara his other cheek. "If it will make you feel better, smack the other one as well. Hell, hit me all you want, curse me to the Devil, for all I care. Just give me a chance to explain before you toss me back, throwing away everything we've built together."

The uncontrollable desire to hurt him that had come suddenly over her seconds before died as quickly as it had been birthed.

She relaxed her hand, not knowing what to do with Lor or the feelings roiling within.

"What your father did to my grandparents was beyond 'ugly.'"

From what her father had told her when she was eighteen and pushed to know the truth about that fateful day, her grandparents had to have closed caskets because of the damage done to them after Zod had blown their brains out. Apparently, they'd been mutilated post mortem by Faora's Alpha Squad.

"I wasn't trying to minimize what my father did. It was awful; I know. But I'm not him and you aren't your grandparents. We don't have to be at odds because they were."

"Your father is a monster. Then and now."

Lor cringed, but slowly nodded his assent.

"Come on, Kara; don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you expect me to defend my father. Like I'm a chip off the old Zod block."

"Aren't you? You lied to me. You tricked me into trusting you." _You broke my heart._

Lor reached for Kara, then, perhaps thinking better of touching her again, lowered his hand. "Lies of omission only. I never directly lied to you. And I only ever lied about who my parents were."

"It's all the same. You knew how I would react so you deliberately kept the truth from me."

"Of course I knew. It's how every Kryptonian reacts when they learn I'm of the House of Zod. They think, like you and your family, that I'm a brutal bastard like dear ole dad. I'm shunned and ostracized. Not because of anything I've done but because of whom my father is. Tell me, Kara, does that sound fair to you? To judge someone based on the misdeeds of another?"

No, she didn't think it fair. But Lor wasn't the innocent he was trying to portray himself as being.

"I was just a baby when my father had the Council assassinated and stole the title of High Councillor from your grandfather. Surely you can't blame me for that."

"Of course not, but—"

"My mother was poisoned when I was almost eleven. I remember going into her bedroom one morning when she hadn't come down for breakfast. The door was ajar so I slipped inside. I saw them . . . my parents. My father was kneeling by my mother's side of the bed, whispering something I couldn't hear in her ear. I moved closer, not understanding why she wouldn't just get up and talk to him, to me."

Lara didn't want to hear this. After listening to Lara tell of how she and Jor had been forced to create a biological weapon for Zod, only to turn their invention against the despot, adding kryptonite to medicines and steroids used by the Guild, Ursa Zod was likely yet another casualty in the feud between the Zods and Els.

"I could see . . . when I reached the foot of the bed, how green her skin was. She was sweating but at the same time covered in layers of blankets, as if she were freezing. She died three weeks later, having never regained consciousness. A couple of months after that, our home was raided and my father taken away in chains, thrown into Phantom Zone Prison where he's spent most of the last thirty years of his life. The House of Zod forever tarnished by his greed and villainy."

Lor held her gaze, although she found it difficult to hold his. His story, while doubtlessly true and undeniably sad, only added credence to him being a liar and set on revenge against the Els. Through Lara and Jor's machinations, they were responsible for the death of Lor's mother and the imprisonment of his father. How could a child who lost all he'd known in a matter of months not hate and blame the responsible parties?

"At ten, I had no idea what my father had done. Everything and everyone I'd known was either dead or in prison. Lucky for me, my nanny managed to hide me when the horde came to the palace for blood. There were escape tunnels, you see, that I used to play in. We used them to get away. From there, she took me to her home."

Despite herself, Kara asked, "What happened to you?"

"My nanny, Mrs. Krill, had a sister who lived in the States . . . California. The woman's husband had died years back and they never had children. With the help of some kind people, they smuggled me out of the country. I stayed with a Russian family I didn't know, people with whom I couldn't even communicate. They didn't speak Kryptonian, and that was all I spoke. But they fed and cared for me, held me when I dreamed of my dead mother and the flames that destroyed my home and innocence."

This time, when Lor reached for her shoulder, he didn't pull back, nor did Kara shove him away.

"It wasn't until I moved to San Diego and lived among Kryptonians who'd fled our homeland that I learned the truth of who my father truly was. They despised him. And Faora. Non. Even my mother. It was so difficult trying to reconcile the loving father I'd known my entire life to the brute he'd been to so many others."

His hand fell away, leaving a chill in both her body and soul. Eyes still held hers. Shadows of old pain and new regrets filled his orbs, an intangible cord that bound them – Zod to Zor El.

"My adopted mother was a good woman. She loved me despite me being a Zod. But she was old and couldn't protect me. I can't tell you how many times I was beaten up on my way home from school. Or how many times I was called 'Zod's little shit,' or 'Zod Reaper,' or a litany of other inventive slurs my neighbors came up with to punish me because they couldn't strike back at my father."

Unable to stand still a moment longer, Kara turned back toward the house. She had to walk, had to do something other than allow herself to be drawn in by Lor's harsh, childhood experiences. He'd been mistreated and maligned because he was a Zod. But he had first and foremost been an innocent child who'd lost his parents, no matter how dreadful they may have been.

Reaching the foot of Clark's driveway, Kara didn't have to wait for Lor to catch up; he had never left her side.

"I know I should've told you the truth, Kara. There were so many times I began to, but fear held my tongue. When we first met, I had no idea you were the granddaughter of High Councillor Kal El. It wasn't until you shared a bit of your own history that I figured it out. By then I was already in love with you. I thought the only way to keep you from bolting, was to continue to keep my mouth shut, to play the role I've played since leaving the old neighborhood and going off to college, changing my last name and leaving Dru and Ursa Zod behind."

"And what kind of marriage would we have had built on a cracked foundation of mistrust and lies?"

"For what it's worth, I planned to tell you after this trip. I knew I could no longer keep it from you, that you deserved to know the whole truth if we were to make a life together."

Trying to discern the line between truth and manipulation was becoming harder and harder for Kara. She'd naively swallowed his falsehoods before, how could she now trust that what she thought to be true was indeed so?

"When my father escaped from prison, I thought it was a sign. For so many years I wondered how I could make up for his ill treatment of our people. But when he escaped and managed to raise an army, challenging the current president, I saw my chance to finally do some good."

A foolish dream, but one she'd bought into. Because, like Lor, Kara also had dreams of a Krypton free of long-standing divisions, based on nothing more than rank, title, and family lineage.

"I know after all you've discovered about my past that you have no reason to believe me, but I do love you. Very much. And I would never intentionally hurt you or your family. I'm truly sorry about Diana. After seeing what kryptonite did to my mother, I would never wish that fate on another, especially not someone you love."

Ah, and there went her vulnerable heart again, fluttering in the wind, a bird struggling against a force more powerful than itself – love.

She closed her eyes, torn by conflicting emotions. Kara had always considered herself a good judge of character. So how had she misjudged Lor and their relationship so horribly? Or had she? Was Lor Zod a master manipulator and Kara Zor El a gullible woman so desperate for true love that she would willingly accept the fabrications of a handsome, charming man?

Kara opened her eyes and really took in the man before her, hoping to divine the truth not clouded by her traitorous heart.

"I know," Lor said, "that you need time. I get that. Just know I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay until this thing with your friend is settled. I'm not responsible, and I won't run away as if I am. If you need me, if Diana Kent needs me, I'm staying at the Hilton, room 561. If you call, I'll be here. If you want to talk, I'll listen. If you want to scream and call me a lying bastard, I'll take my lumps like a man, but I won't leave you to deal with this alone."

The flutter turned into a volcanic eruption, burning Kara from the inside out. She had to get away from him, had to salvage the dignity she still had left before she threw herself into his arms and begged him to love her always.

Not trusting herself, Kara retreated toward the house. Lor confused the hell out of her. She couldn't have been so wrong about him. For her own sense of worth, she hoped that all they'd shared hadn't been a game of revenge for him. Even if it hadn't been and Lor loved her, and was a victim of circumstances, Kara's family would never welcome a Zod into their family. And she didn't blame them. Yet if it were true that Lor was a Zod in name but not deed, then the Els were no better than the Kryptonians who'd alienated and terrorized Lor as a child. No better than General Zod himself who disliked and distrusted all Soviets regardless of who they were as individuals, lumping them together in a despicable stew of pre-conceived notions and ethnic discrimination.

That wasn't the El way. They were better than that. Still, Lor had lied and Diana had been attacked with the same virus that had killed Zod's wife, Lor's mother. But did that correlation also make for a causation. Once again, Kara had no answers.

She knew he watched her run away, knew Lor stood on the sidewalk staring at the house long after Kara had gone inside. She'd known because she'd secretly watched him from her bedroom window until he'd slipped into his car and drove away.

Ten minutes later, her cell phone dinged. Grabbing it from the nightstand, she read the text message.

_Despite the feud between our families, we are not Romeo and Juliet. But I would die for you. I love you. If you believe nothing else, believe that. Sweet dreams, Kara, sweet dreams._

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	14. Chapter 14: Welcome Home, Kal-El

**Chapter 14: Welcome Home, Kal-El**

**Argo City, Krypton**

For all the country was on the brink of a full-scale civil war, Argo City was undeniably beautiful. Towering glass buildings surrounded by vast mountain peaks brought the landscape alive. Miles of magnificently manicured lawns and overhanging trees in autumn bloom invited the eye to linger and appreciate the fall vibrancy of orange and red. And the road from the airport into the capital city would've evoked awe in even the most jaded of tourist if dozens of armed soldiers, lumbering tanks, and sporadic remnants of bombed cars and bullet-riddled buildings hadn't interrupted the spectacular view of the ancient city.

Yet it was the stunning presidential compound that had made Clark sit up and take notice. Vaulted ceilings, long winding hallways of black-and-white marble, spiraling staircases, mahogany doors, and floor after floor of handcrafted Kryptonian sculptures and paintings, both antique and modern, reminded Clark of a museum unsure whether it was of the past or tossed unceremoniously into the present.

He'd been stunned into silence when Clark and Jor had been escorted through the thirty-foot security gate and into the ten-level grand mansion, housing offices as well as living quarters. But none of the luxury of the guest chamber assigned to Clark and Jor, nor the tasty Kryptonian cuisine fed them, or even the unexpected reverence afforded them by the staff set Clark at ease, making him feel better about his mission.

In fact, the treatment served only to intensify his anxiety. Now, three days after their arrival, Clark was ready to tear the mansion apart in search of President H'el.

The expertly decorated suite, done in ivory-and-blue with thick carpeting, whirlpool bath, king-size bed, flat screen television, two walk-in closets, and a balcony overlooking a garden should've been an ideal spot for rest and relaxation but felt more like a gilded cage.

Clark spun to face his father, who was seated on a plush dark-blue chaise lounge in Clark's room. Jor's room was next door, connected to Clark's by an adjoining door.

"We should've been on our way back home by now. We've been cooling our heels for three damn days." Three days Diana did not have. "When will the president deign to fit us into his schedule?"

Upon arriving, they'd been informed that the president was away from the mansion, but that his personal assistant would see to their needs. And the man had. But that had been three, long days ago and no one had deemed fit to give them an ETA on the president since then. Worse, all communication outside of Krypton was shut down, meaning, no calls in or out, including Clark's cell phone, which just pissed him the hell off. Not only could he not let Lois and C.J. know he'd arrived safely, as he'd promised, he had no way of checking on his wife. That alone had Clark on edge, ready to spit bullets.

Jor shook his head, mirroring Clark's frustration. He stood. "I don't like it."

Neither did Clark, especially the way everyone seemed to stare at him and Jor, referring to them as Lord El. Jor seemed to take the reverence in stride, only pausing in discomfort the first time the assistant, Mr. Wal, had said, "Welcome home, Lord Jor El."

That had taken Clark aback but he'd let it go, even when Mr. Wal had turned to him and repeated the same greeting. Since then, everyone who'd introduced himself or herself to Clark had used the same title. Even Jor, since landing in Argo City had stopped calling him Clark. Here, in this oddly familiar place, Clark Kent had given way to Kal El.

Now that he did not like, particularly since the name and title obviously carried a weight and significance to the people here. A weight and significance not known to Clark, but one Jor was damn sure going to explain.

After the heart-to-heart on the plane, Clark didn't have it in him to push his father further. The older man was gutted emotionally. Dredging up the past was the type of heavy lifting Clark and Diana used to do when they were trying to find their way back to each other. But three days had past. Time enough for Jor to have gotten his legs back under him.

"H'el should've been here to meet us. I contacted him when Diana was first taken ill. He knows why we came, said he would help us."

Even though Jor had told Clark of his long-ago association with H'el, that wasn't enough to explain why, thirty years later, Jor would have the president's personal number and ear. Diana, for all that she used to work for the Obama Administration, still had to go through proper channels to reach the man himself. Yet Jor, a retired scientist and convicted felon, had a direct line to the President of Krypton. _Something doesn't add up._

"Why would he help us, Dad? Why would H'el even care about you or a woman he's never met before?"

When Jor mentioned traveling to Krypton to retrieve the antidote for Diana, Clark had simply assumed his father would contact a medical facility that carried the drug or search the belongings he and Lara had put in storage when they moved to New York - old papers or something just as simple. No way did Clark think his father had contacts at the highest place of government.

Jor's hands went to the pockets of the gray sweater he wore, a gesture Clark's come to associate with nerves, anxiety.

Pulling a chair from a small writing table, Clark sat, his silent way of telling his father he was calm and ready to listen to whatever he had to say. He knew he wouldn't like it. Frankly, he was tired of all the family secrets coming at him in dribbles and drabbles when it suited his father. But until the scare with Diana, Clark had no interest in Krypton or family history. The Kents, Diana, and his three children were all the family Clark cared about. So perhaps it shouldn't have surprised Clark that Jor and Lara had shared so little of their homeland and past with him.

The truth was that Clark hated looking back. Pain and lost were held there, so much so that ignoring it always seemed the best option. And hadn't that been why Clark and Diana rarely discussed their first marriages, why Clark found it so difficult to visit Pa Kent's gravesite, and why he objected to giving the girl's a Kryptonian name even when it was Diana who had made the suggestion?

Little good came from living one's life looking back instead of facing forward. _Or so I thought. Perhaps I've been wrong all these years. _Maybe, but it was Winston Churchill who once said, "If we open a quarrel between past and present, we shall find that we have lost the future."

And right now, all the mess with the Els and Zods seemed to be just that, a quarrel between the past and the present, threatening to ruin Clark's and Diana's future.

Jor returned to the chaise lounge, hands on the seat cushions instead of in his pockets.

"I already told you about how Zod killed my parents and claimed the title of High Councillor for his own. I also told you how his men tracked your mother and me down after we fled Krypton. And I also shared with you, more or less, how we used the kryptonite to defeat Zod and his Guild. What I didn't tell you was what happened after that."

No he hadn't, another layer to a growing drama that left Clark weary.

"Do me a favor, Dad, skip all the high drama and minute details and get to the bottom line."

"Okay, fine. Once Zod had been banished to Phantom Zone Prison, the country was in turmoil. Chaos reigned; people flooded the streets burning everything that reminded them of the Zod regime. But they also attacked each other, using the tattered government as an excuse to seek revenge or commit a host of crimes. The country was on the verge of imploding. Something had to be done. A strong leader was needed to bring everyone together, to get everything under control."

"H'el? Is that how the man came into power, on the heels of anarchy?"

"Well, not exactly. You see, son, Krypton was founded by nine families. And since that founding, over two thousand years ago, the nine families have ruled – an eldest son or daughter, a scholarly patriarch or matriarch, a rebellious but brilliant youngest child, but from the nine families, always selected from the nine."

Another blinder was slowly falling away; widening Clark's vision to encapsulate all that had been hidden.

"The Els were one of the nine, which was why your grandfather, Kal El, was able to ascend to the rank of High Councillor."

He'd been named after his grandfather. When Jor had told Clark the story of his parents' assassination, he'd never spoken their first names. Now, well, Clark understood the reverence in the staffers' eyes and, most importantly, that Jor had given Clark his father's sacred name. It had been an honor that Clark knew nothing about because his parents never shared the importance of the name with him. Hell, not even Kara had bothered to enlighten Clark . . . Kal.

Suddenly, Clark felt like the kid he'd been at Smallville Elementary School when, in the third grade during a lesson on the family, the class was asked to draw their family tree. Clark had stared at his blank sheet of white paper while all the other kids had gotten to work, filling in parents, grandparents, siblings, aunts, uncles, and cousins.

When his teacher, Mrs. McNamara, had come around to collect his work, wondering why his paper was blank, he'd told her, "I only have a Ma and Pa Kent, and I don't really belong to them. I have no tree, no roots, no family." Then he'd balled up the paper and asked to go to the nurse's office." Kind Mrs. McNamara had written him a pass to the nurse's office and, thankfully, never mentioned what he'd said to the Kents. While they would've understood, like they always had, it would've hurt them.

Clark felt his face heat with anger, at Lor for being so closed-lipped about their family and at Clark for not seeking the answers he used to want to know so badly. And this history, both the good and the bad, belonged as much to Jor and Lara El as it did to Kara, Clark and his children, whom, Clark stubbornly decided, would learn all about when they were old enough to understand.

"Go on, Dad."

"As much as H'el was a respected scientist and was instrumental in defeating Zod, his family was not one of the nine. The people would've never listened to him, accepted his rule." Jor took in a deep breath and blurted, "So I became High Councillor with Lara as my second, the same as my parents and their parents before them."

Clark could've crashed to the floor. _High Councillor? My father was High Councillor?_

"Are you all right, Clark? Do you need a drink of water?"

No, Clark didn't need a god damn drink of water. What he needed were normal parents who had a simple, uneventful past. Instead, what he got were offspring of nobles turned scientists turned fugitives turned rulers of freakin' Krypton.

"I'm fine." He wasn't, and they both knew it. But Jor, who'd risen when Clark began to sway in his chair, lowered himself back to the chaise lounge.

They both breathed deeply and said nothing for quite a while, Clark trying to catch what was left of his mind. Jor watched him with concern, and Clark wished, not for the first time since embarking on this trip, that he could discuss it all with Diana. Each time the unconscious desire rose within, it reminded Clark how much he'd come to depend on his wife, how much he valued her opinion, how much he loved her, and how small his life would become without her.

"I'm fine," he repeated. "You just shocked me was all. Go on. I'm listening."

His father wasted no time finding the thread of his tale. Now that he'd begun, Jor seemed anxious to tell all.

"I didn't really want the position. By all rights, it should've gone to Zor, my older brother. But Zor wanted the mantle less than I did. He and Alura had Kara. They didn't want to disrupt her life or theirs."

The fact that Jor and Lara had, as far as anyone knew, no children, went unsaid. So, of course, they had the time to devote to the rebuilding of their country.

"But you were the El who'd saved Krypton from Zod, not your brother."

"Yes. It made bringing the populace under control relatively easy. It took weeks for the attacks and looting to completely stop and longer still to reinstate the High Council. But once that was done, I began transitioning H'el, who'd I'd appointed as Regent, into my position. It was a delicate process. Once people saw his competence and dedication, he became the face of the new and free Krypton. His name was on all official documents. He led the Council while your mother and I gradually faded into the background."

"B-but Diana hired an investigator to find you and Mom." After they'd broken up, Diana had hired a professional investigator to find Clark's parents. He hadn't known at the time, but Diana wanted to help him find his birth parents and, if possible, fill in the gaps from his childhood. If Diana's investigator had learned who Jor and Lara El truly were, no way would he have kept that out of his report to her.

"Diana's man found us, as you know. And she later came herself to check us out for Martha Kent to make sure we weren't crazies who would ruin your life if you learned where we lived and that we wanted to meet you."

Realization struck and Clark narrowed his eyes at his father. "You paid her investigator off, didn't you? To keep your little secret?"

"For all of Krypton's outward beauty, Kal, it's an isolationist nation. We have no political or military allies. We're self-sustaining, although we keep our borders open for tourism and the like, but few come. And we do nothing to entice outsiders to visit. We are a guarded nation, protecting ourselves, our government, and technological inventions from those who could do us harm. And part of that protection is not letting others know exactly how we rule Krypton. As far as the outside world, H'el is, at best, the president, at worse, the dictator. Yet the real power rests with the High Council. They are to be guarded at all costs."

"Including lies and secrecy?"

"Yes, Kal, including lies and secrecy. We lost an entire Council before. No one wants a repeat of that. The nine houses, the nine families are Krypton, for better or for worse. That is our legacy. That is what it means to be an El in Krypton. Here, my son, you are Lord Kal El, son of Lord Jor El and Lady Lara El, heir to the High Councillorship. By my grace, H'el serves, but rightfully, the throne, if you will, belongs to you, and, of course, as wife and mother to your children, Diana."

Speechless and numb, Clark stared, open-mouthed at his father – Lord Jor El, former High Councillor of Krypton. _And I'm heir to a nation I've never cared about, with a madman on the loose and a deadly biological weapon at his disposal. Welcome home, Kal El, welcome home._

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED**


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